


Wilds Of Nature

by TheFilthWithin (Flatfootmonster)



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alpha Even Bech Næsheim, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, M/M, Omega Isak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-01-12 11:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18445208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flatfootmonster/pseuds/TheFilthWithin
Summary: In a society where Alphas and Omegas are expected to act in very specific ways, Even and Isak don't fit the mold.On their own separate paths, they break away from the community that suffocated them, taking a damaging prejudice towards their complementary and opposite sex with them.Fate and circumstance brings them together, giving them the opportunity to change those firmly held beliefs before society catches up with them.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I don't know where this came from. I just had a need to read it and so I started writing it. 
> 
> Secondly, I have not abandoned BIaS. I'm currently snowed under and it's causing me to have issues concentrating on that story. But I wanted to be writing something and this happened. I will refocus on BIaS soon. 
> 
> Enjoy what will inevitably some form of cluster fuck... 
> 
> Love, Becs

###  Chapter One

Stamping his feet against the cold and slick pavement, Isak rubbed at his shoulders again, barely able to keep his teeth from chattering. He wasn't going to hold out much longer. 

His eyes darted up the street as a laugh boomed from that direction—a doorway to one of the tall houses. It was dark at this hour, only a handful of windows spilt a warm glow out on to the frigid, murky concrete. A group of three emerged from that house and began to stroll towards where Isak lurked, albeit on the other side of the road.

Hunching over, he made himself as small as possible and shrunk back into the shadows the buildings cast. Hopefully he wouldn't be noticed. Most people wouldn't see what there was to see, but he couldn't risk the chance that one of them had the ability to scent him. 

“Isak?” 

The voice made Isak jolt in surprise, but relief flooded him as he turned to find his friend, and hopefully his temporary salvation. 

“Did you get it?” 

Eskild came to a halt a few paces from him, unable to meet Isak’s eyes but trying on a reassuring expression. Isak didn't really need an answer. “No, but I'm sure I can by tomorrow—Monday latest.”

A deep, shaky sigh left Isak's lungs. Eyes closed, he raked fingers through his hair, the wall was taking his full weight now, brick scratching at his bare arms. “That's not gonna work.  _ Monday _ ? No. It's not gonna work, Eskild. I've been around them too long now. I can feel it—” His words tapered off as his friend’s palm flattened to his arm. It sent a warmth into his body that Isak would usually appreciate.  

“You sure that's not just a fever? Running around in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts at night  _ and  _ in this weather will do that— _ especially _ with a storm setting in,” Eskild said. He tried to make the words light, a reprieve. But it wasn't going to cut it, not right now.

And Eskild could have a point. But there was no other way Isak could meet him. Now his patriarchal Alpha was gone, he was at the mercy of the community. All they saw was an unmated Omega in their prime—his father couldn't protect him from six feet under. They'd already matched him up and taken away his suppressants, as well as halting his education entirely. Isak's life had been completely stood on its head in a matter of weeks, no time to even mourn.  _ That's _ what urged him to climb out of his window in the dead of night, in nothing but his pyjamas, to meet Eskild. 

So, yes, it could very well be a fever but Isak doubted that. Now his heats were free to come and go as they pleased, added to the fact he was in the constant company of at least one prime Alpha—for this  _ very _ reason—he was due. And after all this time, it would hit him abysmally hard; he would call out for an Alpha. That was the point of this entire fucking debacle. 

Eskild had been his only hope. Isak could feel the haze at his peripheral. If he didn't find suppressants by tomorrow, there would be no stopping it. 

Then his fate would be sealed. 

Isak's jaw firmed. “It's not a fever.” 

It was Eskild's turn to sigh. “I'm gonna try my best, OK. This just—it's not fair.” 

“It's not your fault.” Isak meant the words but he was helpless to the despondency in his voice. Eskild was putting his neck on the line for him. 

A silence stretched out and Isak could feel the weight of Eskild's worried gaze settling on him, but he continued to stare at the toes of his socks—the soles damp through. 

“I'll be here tomorrow night, OK? And I'll have something of use—some  _ plan _ . I promise.” There was a firmness in his friend's words, but it was the two hands that landed firmly on his shoulders and squeezed that brought around Isak's focus. He dared to look up, despite the despair that his eyes swam in, that threatened to leak down his cheeks. 

Isak wanted to believe him, but even the suppressant plan wasn't long lasting. Two months tops before people started to get suspicious of his elusive heats. What other options were there? 

Swallowing down his doubt, Isak nodded. “OK.” 

Eskild smiled. It wasn't his usual mirthful grin, but it was enough to give Isak a modicum of courage. “Same time?” 

He nodded again. “OK.” There wasn’t much more to say.

The hands on his shoulders rubbed up and down his arms, lending him more warmth. 

“Now go sleep; rest. Try not to think.” Eskild leant forward, pushing a soft kiss to Isak's forehead before he stepped back. The comfort of his hands went with him as he melted back into the shadows. Isak was left listening to soft footsteps that quieted until he was left alone once more on the street. That group had vanished into the night by now—it must be nice to have your freedom.

Isak stayed glued to the spot, staring at where Eskild had been standing, the remaining lights in the houses were snuffed out at a slow and irregular pattern at his back. There didn't seem to be an obvious plan, but he would find one. He was determined not only to get out of this goddamn hellish predicament, but to get away from Alphas entirely. With the exception of his Father, they were the most primal creation in the natural world, who only cared about claiming any and all Omegas, whether that was for their best interest or not.  _ Protection _ , they called it.

It was not in Isak’s best interest. He was so much more than an Omega. And he would prove it. 

Resolve growing stronger in him, Isak squared his shoulders and lurched into movement, retraced his steps, back to the  _ secure _ bedroom that his guardians thought he was sleeping soundly within. 

Alphas were dumb too.

* * *

It was as much Even's strength as it was the ferocious wind that brought the door to meet the frame so abruptly, sending a clatter through his cabin. A flurry of snow snuck in with his entrance, but it would soon melt from the heat spewed into the open space by a lively fire, dancing on hunks of wood in the hearth. 

This wasn't his first storm out here, nor his first winter. And as much as the icy weather bit to the bone, always bringing him to doubts that spring would ever roll around, Even still preferred to be out here—in isolation—rather than be around people. 

People were inherently nosy and judgemental,  ready to cast something aside that didn't fit the assumed mold—tool or human alike. He could do without that shit in his life and he was assigned to his solitary world. In fact he very much enjoyed it, and that's what he told the half tame wolves that ventured close enough for him to vent to. His voice had grown strange in his ears, and the only other time he would hear it was when he needed supplies of some sort, then he would take the half day journey to the nearest small fishing town. That's when his stockpile of furs and antlers would come in handy, and he was always sure to find a good deal because no one wanted to screw over the lonely, half mad Alpha that lived alone up in the mountains. The reputation worked fine for Even.

Banging the snow from his boots, he made his way through the small living space, rubbing his hands together. He'd wait until his fingers were warmer before attempting to unlace the sturdy shoes he wore.

The last of his preparations had been made for the incoming storm; he'd shuttered the windows, chopped enough wood to get him through the entire season, stocked up on oil for the lamps, charged his generators, and filled the small fridge and cupboards with supplies. 

Making the short journey around his home, Even began the smaller tasks that needed completing before he could relax. The first was lighting the small burner stove and placing a kettle of water above the blue flame. After that he began to fill the lamps that hung around his cabin with oil and lit those too; the generator could operate the electricity but he'd prefer to conserve the energy. Plus the lamps added a welcome heat of their own. Turning on the radio that sat on the mantelpiece, Even tuned it until it landed on one of the two stations he could get out here; today it was classical, the song playing at present a slow piano melody that built to a passionate crescendo. He'd heard it many times before, the enjoyment never lessened. 

It wasn't long before he was easing back in a comfortable chair, gripping a ceramic mug full of hot, sweet tea—his fingers now warmed back to life. He blew across the surface before taking a sip. When he'd placed it on the small table by his chair, he reached for this evening's entertainment: an old dusty book filled with fanciful folk tales. It was well loved before it had come into Even's care, and he'd added more creases to the spine on countless reads. The kettle had been set to one side in the compact kitchen area—a cosy placed on it to keep the water hot—and a pot was on the ring now as leftovers from last night's dinner were warming slowly. 

There was just the crackle of the fire, the soft piano notes, and Even's sigh. He was in his home, where he belonged, and he couldn't imagine anything bringing him more comfort than this simplicity. 

Picking up the book, Even thumbed through the pages to find the thin sheet of carved cherry wood that marked his place. The index finger on his free hand skirted the top of his left boot with the intention of finally unlacing them. That was when he heard something else, a scratching noise. Even stilled, his ears straining. The wind was picking up, deft and strong invisible claws finding their purchase on branches that scraped along the cabin’s sides, or wriggling their way through cracks here and there. Perhaps it was just the wind… 

But the noise came again, and it was coming from the door.  _ That _ could mean only one thing. 

Book now aside, Even pushed himself up from the chair while frowning at the entrance way. His feet covered the distance in only a few strides. Sliding back the locks and pulling on the handle, Even allowed a crack of only a few centimetres that enthusiastic wind quickly took advantage of. Sure enough a dark snout poked through the gap, sniffing the air as large golden eyes peered up at him. Then the she wolf retreated with a low whine. The last time she’d done this, one of her pack had been caught in the cruel teeth of a trap. The time before, it had been her herself, limping with a gash on her hind leg. There was no clue as to how she'd done it, but he'd taken both beasts in when they'd needed it, tending to them until they were well enough to resent being kept inside.

The sigh that Even let out was one of resignation. He couldn't let anything suffer, especially not in this weather when the simplest of ailments could be deadly. Luckily for him, his thick layers and waterproofs were still wrapped around him; his bones hadn't fully warmed yet. That was what the tea was for. 

But the tea could wait. It would have to wait. 

* * *

The snow was thick enough that Even had to work hard at pulling his foot free every time he took a step. Luckily, the wolf's tracks were easy to follow because she was shifting in and out of view among the dappled shadows the trees made. It was dusk, dense cloud hung heavy the sky, and there was little light available. If it got any harder to orientate through this familiar patch of land, there was always the flashlight he kept in one of his deep pockets. 

Breaking through a thicket, Even paused as he looked down the steep slope that he'd been led to. It was on the eastern side of the foot mountains, not the way to town, which lay to the south. This was the way Even would come if he was ever crazy enough to take the two day journey into the city—which he never was, despite what the townsfolk said. 

The wolf had bounded this way, and his gaze drifted along the dark dots her paws made in the pale, untouched landscape, before they came to an abrupt stop. There he could see her nudging at a mound in the snow. 

Carefully, he followed, making sure he had secure footing before committing to a step. The snowfall was lighter, so he could simply retrace his tracks on the return journey. The safe path back wouldn't be hidden within the blink of an eye. 

She was whimpering by the time he drew near. As he stooped beside the shape, Even realised that this couldn't be a wolf—unless it was two laying nose to tail. His gloved hand brushed away the blanket that nature had provided this poor soul, and his breath caught when he made out two human eyes, tightly shut, white clusters of ice clinging to eyelashes. It was the only thing visible because of the abundant layers this person had donned. The skin Even could see was a marbled blue; they would need warmth if there was any hope of them waking again. 

Absentmindedly, Even patted the wolf's muzzle, as she sniffed at the human she'd found. 

“Easy girl. It'll be OK,” he found himself murmuring, he wasn't sure for whose benefit: hers, his own, or the wretched creature that had stumbled alone into the wilderness. What ever were they thinking coming up here in a storm? She licked at his hand before nudging him, impatient herself in the rescue attempt. He grunted a laugh at the wolf before nodding. “As you say, m'lady.” 

With the silent order, Even cleared the rest of the snow from the human. Then he pulled them to a seated position, shifting them until they flopped forward against one of his shoulders. With a silent countdown, and making sure his feet were secure where they dug into the hard ground, Even stood slowly and carefully, easing his freezing load over a shoulder, much like he'd carry a deer. 

The journey to safety was a slow and cautious slog, the wolf left his side once Even had reached the beaten path that led up to his cabin. Looking over his shoulder, he could only make out two golden globes in the shadows.

”I’ll leave something out in the morning,” he assured. It was a part of a pact he’d made with himself, that when the weather was bad he would leave some cuts and bones for the wolves. Or at least for her; she had her first set of cubs this year. And, like she understood his words, her head dipped before she disappeared from sight. 

The first thing that registered when Even banged his way back into the cabin, stooping so no more damage came to his cargo, was that his food was on the verge of spoiling. On a low heat, he’d still been gone long enough to threaten the thick broth by scorching it. He’d eaten worse. Turning the heat off would be the second thing he did.

The first was to pull out the sofa bed one handed, so the base doubled and became a guest bed. It had never been used for its intended purpose, not since Even had taken over the cabin. Unless you considered the wolves that had spent a few days respite here guests. Even prefered to sit in the armchair near the fire, where his book and tea still sat, untouched and now entirely cold. So, at least this would be making use of his resources. 

Easing the human back onto the mattress, Even inhaled and a sharp scent cut through every other sense before it was gone again—to quick to understand. Frowning, he left the bundle of coat and scarves where they lay, completely still, before making his way over to turn off the stove. On his return, Even took off his coat, flinging it onto the armchair, before gathering some blankets and spare underclothes that were drying by the fire. 

Settling carefully on the sofa bed next to his mysterious guest, Even began to tug at the woollen layers that swamped them. Everything was damp, this wasn't surprising considering they had been buried in the snow for some time, and they would need to be dry and warm. But, as he tugged the hat from their head, Even’s brow furrowed again in contemplation. There was a sheen of sweat on their cool, pale skin, that was entirely out of place for someone stuck out in the snow. A fever may come later, but not on the verge of freezing. Unless they were unwell to begin with, which made their ascent up the mountain all the more boggling. What were they looking for? Or had they been escaping?

Either way, he would find out sooner or later, what he had to focus on was their well being. Even had a plentiful first aid kit, he had the tools to assist. They'd been lucky to stumble into the territory of the wolves and not be mistaken for a meal. That was another interesting anomaly. And whoever this was, they had dressed for warmth but not for the elements. The coat was thick and filled with down, but it wasn’t waterproof, or windproof. Their shoes were gumboots that Even discovered were a few sizes too big when he pulled them off. It seemed this was a young man, maybe a few years younger than Even, and they were desperately unprepared for the wilds. 

His fingers tugged at the zip of the coat just as the man stirred, eyes fluttering but remaining closed, and his head turned from Even. That scent cut through Even’s senses again, this time he didn’t frown, he scowled. His palm ghosted over the the exposed skin, it found a small lump beneath the man's jaw, like a risen gland. But there would be no twin on the other side. 

Letting out a growl that resonated deep in his chest, Even stood. Pacing away from his  _ guest _ , he grabbed the cold mug of tea and flung the contents with an excessive amount of force into the sink. The liquid splashed over the wooden sides before he placed the vessel carefully down. Gripping the worktop with both hands, Even stared into the wooden shutter that had been closed over the glass window above the sink from the outside, his jaw firmly set as he grimaced at his own thoughts. The grainy, bland substitute for a view wasn't the issue. He considered bundling the man back up and taking them back to where he’d been discovered. This would only bring trouble,  _ that  _ was a certainty.

Now it made sense, those anomalies. Not only did wolves have an affinity for Omegas, but their empathy was invoked when one was in heat, and they would be damn right murderous in defence if of one carrying child. Not only had Even found an Omega out in the middle of a storm, but he’d found one in heat—the sweat on his brow, the swollen scent gland, and the unsettling fragrance made that crystal clear. They had to be escaping something or someone. Therefore that something or someone would be following. The only silver lining was that this Omega was unbonded; there was no connection for an Alpha to follow. Whoever might try and seek out this Omega, they would be tracking, and through these conditions it would take a while to find any trace. Trouble would be delayed.

Even disliked humans in general, and Omegas were not spared. They were nothing but a source of stress and irritation, looking for some primal animalistic behaviour that they could preen around. Omegas had been one of the most judgemental types that Even had been exposed to, slipping him uneasy looks and stating that he wasn't territorial enough, simply because he had no desire to  _ claim _ anyone. Everyone was their own agent, in Even's mind at least. He wasn't about to take someone's freedom of will away by something as barbaric as biting. The notion had never sat well with him, so he'd avoided it entirely. Another reason he'd ended up alone out here… 

Taking a deep breath, Even’s hands released their grip on the wooden surface. The ire eased out of him with his exhale. He was intolerant of unkind behaviour, which meant that putting this human back into the snow, and what would inevitably be their grave, was out of the question. He would care for them until they resented being cooped up, and that wouldn’t take long considering no Omega had ever been able to stand being near Even. Then they could make their way onto wherever it was they were running.

All of that aside, life would be difficult for Even. It had been a long time since he’d been around anyone, no less an Omega in heat. If they triggered a rut—snowy grave be damned—they would be out as quick as they could fucking blink. He had no time for that shit. 

Lifting the pot to one side to place it on a chopping board, Even settled the kettle back on the stove, grumbling to himself about the wasted gas. Already the Omega was causing him problems and leeching his supplies. With a weary sigh, he walked back over to his unwanted guest. He hadn’t moved an inch, except where he was now shivering. Even would need to work fast, for both their sakes. 

Unzipping the coat, his arms flopped obediently out of the sleeves as Even tugged it off. Next were the trousers. Despite the Omega being completely lax, he was light and moved easily as Even gently persuaded his body out of anything that was damp. Luckily for them both, his undershirt and shorts were dry. Even took no time in pulling on the too long cotton trousers, and a second long sleeve shirt over his head. The look was finished with thick woollen socks. 

Before he swaddled the Omega in blankets and comforters, Even wrapped one of his own scarves snug around his neck. That would help in a small way. Being in this perilous state, from laying in the snow for quite possibly hours, would have caused his heat to be muted—weakened. But his scent would still be like fresh baked bread after a full day’s work on an empty stomach to Even—despite being fragile and vague as it now was. The fibres of the scarf would keep the scent from wafting through the air. And if the weather was clearer tomorrow, there was plenty to keep busy with outside. 

Even intended to leave his patient and focus on filling his complaining gut, but he hesitated. His hand moved of its own accord to sweep sweat plastered hair from the Omega’s forehead as his gaze flickered over serene features set in a pale, soft landscape. What had been frigid skin was now beginning to pink in the warmth, and his lips parted on a sigh as he nudged his cheek against Even’s palm, still cradling his face. 

But this one had been running  _ away  _ from something— _ and _ during his heat; death had been a better option than what lay in his wake. That fact spoke against the nature of Omegas, and the notion sparked curiosity within Even. Knowing what it was like to go against nature—or a nature that was presumed on your behalf—perhaps he shouldn’t pass judgement on the nature of this individual. 

He was healthy though, Even had made sure of that before he’d settled himself; late supper in lap and tea in hand. If dehydration or malnutrition had been a factor, Even would have given him fluids, but, as it was, the most important treatment was rest. 

Even told himself that he would read once his supper was eaten, tire his brain out by the fire, then take himself to bed. But his eyes kept following the same sentence, tracing the shapes of the words without absorbing the information, because they kept darting to the shape laying still on the sofa across from him. On top of the crackling fire and the gentle piano music still coming from the ancient radio, there was the gentle tide of a second human body breathing within his sacred space. If he listened closely enough, Even was sure he could hear the second heartbeat present. 

It was wholly unnerving. 

And, instead of climbing the ladder to the loft that housed his spacious sleeping space, he pulled a blanket over himself where he sat and let himself drift off, maintain a contemplative vigil over his patient.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'm Isak.”
> 
> There was a sigh, but the book was held in place, hiding the alpha’s face. “Hello, Isak.”
> 
> There was a pause which Isak bristled under. He was trying, and was being giving nothing in return. The greeting had been uttered in exasperation, as if addressing a persistent child that was baying for recognition. That notion didn't help Isak's own irritation.
> 
> “So?”

###  Chapter Two

Stretching was the first thing Isak tried to do as his consciousness stirred. That quickly proved impossible. It was warm, he knew that much at least. But his last memory was a bone splitting cold that had swiftly shifted to nothingness; blackness had descended on him. He’d been on the mountainside, the snow falling fast and heavy, and his feet had turned to concrete blocks—both by weight and in lack of sensation. 

Isak blinked. He could only make out an orange glow. Warmth and light and immobile. Had he died? Was there an afterlife? An afterlife where you were stuck in the same position? He might not have been able to move, but Isak became acutely aware of how much he needed to piss. 

Perhaps he wasn’t dead just yet. 

Summoning strength into muscles that complained with dull and deep aches, Isak pushed against his confines, gaining space enough to wriggle free. Struggling to sit, he rubbed at his eyes before surveying the surrounding environment. He was in a cabin and wind was screaming outside, rattling protective shutters that were closed over the windows. With no idea what time it was, or how long he’d been asleep, the only sure thing about Isak's predicament was that this place was still in the mountains. Lamps were lit in the small space, alongside a well stocked hearth. The air was heavy with wood smoke and incense—there were two holders on the mantelpiece. Small mounds of ash beneath the glowing sticks indicated that whoever lived here definitely liked perfumed air. It was almost too much for Isak. 

There was no evidence of the owner. They must be kind, Isak surmised, if they’d found and taken him in. Having already surrendered to the inevitably of his situation—being in the mountains with no protection during a storm—to say waking to  _ this  _ was a pleasant surprise was a vast understatement. 

Perched at the very edge of the bed, Isak counted to five before trying out his legs. They wobbled, but held. There were three doors in this open living area, the first being the front door, and the second turned out to be a small closet stuffed with practical clothing and footwear. Isak frowned at an ironing board propped against one wall, that seemed fairly superfluous. It was the third which was what he needed; a neat and compact washroom with a sitting tub, sink and toilet. 

The next clue, after the incense and kindness, was revealed while Isak was relieving himself. His host was tall because the bottom of the borrowed trousers pooled around his ankles, and the thick socks were half off his feet because they were so long. The shirt sleeves bagged past the wrist, so they were slid up his arms before Isak washed his hands. He felt like a small child, swamped in their much older siblings hand-me-downs. 

Having no more pressing issues at hand, except trying to stay upright and operate his weakened body, Isak drifted around the small, quiet space. Everything seemed simple; there was no excess of kitchen implements or decorations, but a precise array of necessary equipment and furnishings. The only indulgent items were stacks of books adorning every surface which was not required for working purposes. 

And yet it  _ was  _ cosy. It was welcoming in its focussed simplicity. 

Ending up back at the sofa that he'd woken on, Isak spied a table that had been set up alongside the armrest. There was a covered bowl and a tall glass of water, a scrap of paper held the word  _ EAT  _ printed firmly on it. As well as the provisions, his phone was lined up neatly with his wallet; the only two things taken with him. A clothes rack leant against the wall that held his dry and folded clothes, his coat and knitted outer clothing hung on hooks by the door with his borrowed boots neatly placed on the worn planks beneath.

There was nothing more to do than follow the succinct instructions left for him. Pushing the pillows into the corner of his temporary bed, he settled himself comfortably, drawing the covers over his lap, before draining half the water and grabbing the mysterious plat of food. Isak was sure whatever it was he would eat it gladly, and his stomach rumbled in accordance. It wasn't necessary to rescind the notion as the plate revealed its contents to be just like the cabin: simple but cosy. 

There was a large slice of buttered bread, cheese, a small lidded container holding what appeared to be stew, and an apple. Whatever his host was doing up here, away from civilisation, they didn’t shun society enough to forego supplies. That was probably smart—a good balance. Isak mulled over his situation, all the while happily filling himself with his prepared meal. To his delight the stew was still warm. And it was  _ good _ . Given the current scenario, Isak would probably place it in the top five best dining experiences of his young life.

Just the apple core and a slither of crust was left on the plate by the time Isak sat back with a sigh. Wiping crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand, Isak washed it all down with the last of the water. He was full, warm, and apparently safe. It felt like a long time since those boxes could all be ticked. Appetite for anything, including food, had been absent since his situation had drastically changed. 

Frowning, Isak considered how he felt. There was no doubt that his heat had descended on him swiftly as he’d reached the base of the mountain, it seemed to have staved off until that very moment to encompass him. Pressing on had been extremely hard when the need for comfort and an acute insecurity had set in fast, along with a feverous warmth flooding his veins. It’d been exhausting fighting a deceptive voice in his head—urging him to turn around, that all the things left behind were desperately needed—with the only tool Isak had: stubbornness. It was a good thing that particular part of his personality was well honed from years of heavy handed use. 

The symptoms were ominously absent now; he felt cooler and level headed. Every now and then a tremor would run through his body, causing his muscles to tremble and his temperature to flash hot to cold, but it wasn’t delirious like it had been out that night, alone on the mountain. It was a long time since Isak had felt a true heat to know what was natural for him, both in length and symptom. But it still seemed wrong for it to hit as hard as it had and now to be so obviously muted. An obscure natural sense told Isak that he hadn’t been sleeping that long. Despite the concerns, he wasn’t about to complain. 

With thoughts chasing their tails, finding no firm answers, and with nothing else to do—not that Isak wanted to do much of anything—resting seemed a wise option. Incense still heavy in the air, he snuggled deeper into the scarf that had been wrapped around his neck and closed his eyes. The material held warmth well, and there was something about the garment that embraced him—it was comforting. Inhaling, Isak tasted the air. There was something else aside from the wood and incense smoke. It was richer, a darker tone but vivid—it reminded him of mulled wine and earth within the same breath.

Just as Isak was examining the puzzle that his nose had picked up, something thudded heavily against the door before he heard it open. His eyes snapped open and he watched, not daring to breathe, as a human shape entered the cabin, bundled too heavily in weather appropriate clothing to be completely obvious. They were too focussed on closing the door against the elements that chased them inside. Isak tugged the covers closer as the wind ripped the warmth from the room in an instance. Yet his host seemed to secure the door with deliberate and soft fingers, perhaps trying not to disturb Isak. Eyes not wanting to blink, Isak observed as they unwrapped their layers, hanging them with a precise and well practised methodology on a hook next to where Isak’s clothing hung. Then they stooped to unlace snow boots before standing to toe them off. One large hand was pressed to the cabin wall for balance, long fingers splayed. Judging by this person's stature, it seemed likely they were the owner of the clothing Isak was wearing. But fascination was the only think Isak knew he was feeling, perhaps he should be fearful but all the evidence so far pointed to the contrary. 

The last garment removed was his hat—Isak was fairly certain that this was indeed a man. It was pushed into the back pocket of his trousers, but all Isak noticed was a tangle of blond hair that was set free, trailing past his nape. The man took several graceful and quiet paces across the room, looking much like a wolf, before halting dead in his tracks when his eyes finally came to rest on Isak. His expression suggested surprise in finding Isak awake, but it seemed that surprise was not something this person generally encountered. His face swiftly became unreadable, but not before Isak took him in; large blue eyes, as intense as glacial waters, a young face but weather worn, and scruff grew in a precise fashion across his cheeks and chin. But it was when his mouth quirked into an unpracticed smile, probably to make Isak feel at ease, that the dots connected. White teeth were flashed, two incisors heavier than any beta would ever be blessed with. 

Isak’s first and uncontrollable instinct was to flinch away from what was apparently an alpha, his hand pushed beneath the scarf to grope at his throat, searching for signs he’d been marked. Surely that was impossible, but who knew with alphas?

A steely gaze tracked Isak’s movements before a heavy frown settled on the alpha’s face. He shook his head and grunted in disgust before turning away, continuing the path he’d initially set towards the kitchen area.

“You’re awake,” he stated, casting it at Isak like he was throwing the words away. His voice was deep and rough, his footsteps now heavy.

Isak’s mouth went dry, perhaps he should be scared. But his floundering for words eased as the alpha disappeared, the fridge was opened and closed before the gas was turned on and the flame lit—Isak only detected this from the noises made as his host moved around out of sight. Water was run, filling something Isak supposed must be a kettle, as a sudden rush of awkward energy filled Isak. He should have done something, made tea or at least tidied his own plate and glass away in gratitude for the hospitality. Instead here he sat like a useless, brainless lump, who—without uttering a word—had steered his host from unsurety to distaste. There had been a definite shift in the alpha’s conduct. Had he been offended by Isak's fear? 

Licking his lips, Isak search for something to say into the void that now stretched between them. “I’m awake,” he agreed before scowling at his own pathetic excuse for conversation. His voice was reedy so he cleared his throat before continuing. “How long was I asleep?” Starting there was probably a mistake, gratitudes were supposed to come first. 

There came a clatter that announced the kettle had been set down on the stove before Isak braced himself as the alpha strode purposefully into the room. That unforgiving gaze didn't find him again, Isak was thoroughly ignored. 

“I found you this time yesterday. I thought you'd sleep longer.” The words were muttered as if the alpha was speaking to himself. It sounded like what he'd meant to say was  _ hoped _ and not  _ thought _ . 

Licking his lips, Isak watched as his plate and glass were collected, swallowing as the alpha neared him. But he seemed to want to be out of Isak's space as swiftly as possible because, within the blink of an eye, his back was to Isak. 

“Thank you,” Isak managed to stammer out. His host halted just short of the kitchen area, but didn't turn back. Isak decided to elaborate. “For taking me in, rescuing me. And—and,” his hand gestured at where his clothes were folded as the alpha’s face half turned to look back at him. “The clothes and food. It was kind.” 

There was another pause and Isak began to scour over his words incase he'd put his foot in his mouth. But the alpha just shook his head in dismissal before his eyes found Isak, they narrowed and the cool indifference clear in them made the hair on Isak's arms stand on end. “I'm not cruel,” he stated simply, refusing the gratitude. The gaze flickered to Isak's neck, then the alpha stiffened in offence before carrying on with his work. 

Letting out the breath held hostage, Isak's hand moved absentmindedly to the scarf, tugging it back up to cover his nose and pressing it to his face. So absorbed in how to alleviate the situation, he didn't notice the conflict in the actions; finding comfort in the alph’s scent who he was tiptoeing around. Conscious and subconscious conflicting, without it being acknowledged. 

The alpha had said those words in defence, as if Isak would assume cruelty of him. Which the actions had indeed confirmed, Isak had to admit. But wasn't it reasonable for an omega to be weary around an unknown alpha? 

There was more clattering from the other room. The dish and glass were being cleaned. Then steam sang as it surged from the spout of the kettle; the water was boiling. The click of the stove dial being turned off sounded and water was being poured—once and then a second time. Isak was already sweating under a wave of sheepishness when the alpha returned holding two mugs, one swiftly set down on the table by the sofa bed before set his own down om a twin side table next to an armchair. A book was obtained and Isak’s host was quickly absorbed in the pages. Drinking tea and reading whilst completely ignoring Isak— _ again _ . 

Clutching the steaming mug in both hands, Isak hesitated over speaking again. It felt intrusive, but he didn't want to appear rude. “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

The only response he received was the slight arch of an eyebrow, the alpha’s face remained impassive and his eyes glued to the book that almost hid his face. 

Isak continued to stare at his host, a frown deepening on his brow. Emotions and reactions were starting to conflict. Sure, he was grateful and wanted to show that, but frustration was beginning to bubble. He knew nothing about this person, who had sat and undressed and dressed him, gone through his belongings, had adjusted to the fact some omega had landed in his lap. But Isak wasn't certain they were on the mountains, let alone anything else. He needed to know what was going on, and the only person who could inform him was going on like Isak was nothing more than one of the carved wood ornaments dotted around the cabin. And there was that stubborn streak winning out again. 

It was definitely that fact which rankled Isak, and not that he'd never met an alpha—who knew what Isak was—and hadn't preened tirelessly whilst eyeing Isak like a hot meal. He didn't enjoy being objectified for something as pot luck as his gender, so this was refreshing. It  _ should _ be refreshing, and  _ not _ frustrating at all—which it absolutely was not. Perhaps he didn't know Isak was an omega? It seemed unlikely considering the scenario, and that the information was readily available his wallet. But alphas weren't the brightest creation on the earth, so the signs might have slipped his hosts notice. 

“I'm omegan,” Isak decided to declare, his chin jutting out in proud defiance. In the two seconds that he gained hindsight, Isak decided it wasn't the smartest confession. But the behaviour he was observing was unsettling, it wasn't  _ expected _ . He needed to figure out why. 

But the words earned nothing but a dismissive grunt. “I noticed.” 

Isak's cheeks flushed. Then his just had been through his wallet? Seen his ID probably and would know his name while Isak remained clueless on all fronts. Did his host just want the upper hand? “What's  _ your _ name?” Isak wanted to shrink away from the demand he'd issued to his host, and apologise for being so forthright. But he'd now veered straight into mule headed territory, it would be almost impossible to talk himself down. 

The book fell into the alpha’s lap, and Isak though he saw a flicker of amusement pass over his face before it was carved from stone one again. “What does that matter?” 

“I have a right to know where I am, and who I'm with. Especially given that you're—”

“An alpha?” He cut in, derision in his voice. 

Isak sputtered. That had been what he'd intended to say but when the words were reflected back at him they sounded harsher than intended. “No. When you're ignoring me,” he lied, drawing himself up and taking a sip from his mug in a manner as dignified as he could manage with cheeks still flushed. But he held the glare that was aimed at him, he wouldn't be cowed by an alpha, no matter how unusual they acted. 

Isak felt triumphant when his host looked away first, shaking his head before claiming his own steaming mug. He gestured at the drink with his free hand, before musing to no one in particular, “Making tea for someone you're ignoring?” And there was blatant sarcasm, Isak couldn't miss it. 

“Yeah, well. You know about me,” Isak said jutting  a finger to where his meager belongings were laid out. Maybe he'd gone through the phone too? Although there would be nothing to find. “It's only right that I know about you.” 

And the glare landed on Isak again with enough force that it should have flayed at least one layer of skin from his flesh. But he stood his ground, he didn't shrink away. Isak felt his eyebrows raise in expectation; a mother waiting for some awful excuse to spew from their disobedient child. He considered briefly that, having dodged death the day before, perhaps he was flirting with that prospect right now. 

“You think I went through your things?” 

Isak shifted under the accusation. Why was  _ he _ being accused? Wouldn't it be natural for the person who had rescued him to feel like they should know about who was sleeping on their couch? Alpha or not. “You didn't?” 

There came enough mocking snort. “No.  _ No _ . I have no right to. I just did enough that you didn't die. Because that's just decent fucking behaviour.” 

There was no comeback there, and obviously his host did not expect one as the book was picked up again and the alpha focussed once again on whatever story was more pressing than the mysterious guest he'd found in the snow, now conscious and trying to pry some information from him. It may have been decent behaviour, but it wasn't what Isak expected. Once again Isak was torn between gratitude and determination to have an actual informative conversation.  

“I'm Isak.” 

There was a sigh, but the book was held in place, hiding the alpha’s face. “Hello,  _ Isak _ .” 

There was a pause which Isak bristled under. He was  _ trying _ , and was being giving nothing in return. The greeting had been uttered in exasperation, as if addressing a persistent child that was baying for recognition. That notion didn't help Isak's own irritation. 

“ _ So _ ?” 

The book came down again then, placed firmly but carefully on the table next to the alpha’s chair. “ _ So?”  _ he repeated. His lips quirked again into an unsure smirk, but this time Isak was sure it wasn’t for his benefit. 

Isak huffed in impatience. He felt like a mouse, sat in a room with the most uninterested cat that had ever existed. And yet his instincts still made him wary, because as uninterested as the man across from him seemed, something in this interaction felt like a game to him. Isak was not a god damn toy. “What is your name? I’m in your house, it would be… creepy to just call you  _ alpha _ .” 

It wasn’t a perfect argument but it seemed to hit a nerve as the alpha wrinkled his nose in distaste; the idea as unappealing to him too. “Even,” he answered grudgingly. Evidently  _ Even  _ wasn’t used to sharing pleasantries if he was content to sit in the company of someone who didn’t know his name, and vice versa. “And you should thank the wolves, they found you.”

“The wolves?” It was hard to stop himself from sounding astounded at that fact. Even hummed confirmation, surveying Isak with a curious expression. He’d probably built up a stack of questions as an omega had found themselves up here and alone in this weather, but equally this lone alpha didn’t seem to like querying the world. Out loud in anycase. A person who minded their business, that could work in Isak’s favour. Perhaps he had nothing to do with the community Isak had fled. “I got lost,” Isak stammered out into the quiet, wanting to seem as open as possible without giving away too much information. In his experience, he couldn’t trust alphas; if they knew what he’d been escaping, most would carry him right back to his  _ protectors _ . But maybe this one was different... 

Even’s eyebrows rose by a fraction. It said more than a sentence that expressed blatant disbelief. “ _ You got lost? _ ” The sentence was added regardless. 

“I was looking for something.” Isak shrugged as if it was as simple as that. It wasn’t at all, but how much would Even probe? 

“It’s bad weather to be out looking for  _ something _ .”

Gazing at the books stacked on the mantelpiece, Isak tried look as unphased as possible with the conversation they were having. “You know us omegas, always doing silly things when left unsupervised.” Perhaps that would be enough to dismiss the alpha’s curiosity. Most of them held very little stock in an omegan sense and logic. 

But Even crossed his arms, brow furrowing. Clearly he wasn’t buying Isak’s explanation. “What were you looking for?” Whatever he thought, or the questions Isak’s words had inspired, the alpha kept it constructive. 

“A cabin.” 

His frown deepened. “I know this mountain like the back of my hand, this is the only cabin up here. The nearest is the town—out south.”

The sure statement took the wind out of Isak. That had been his only hope, and he couldn’t have mistaken this mountainside for any other. It was exactly how Eskild had described it in relation to the city and the coast. It in itself wasn’t a long term solution to his problems, but it would  have brought him some time. “My friend. He said his grandad had a cabin up here that no one had come to in years. Maybe he got it wrong, or—”

There was another sigh, it brought Isak’s attention to the alpha who now looked as if he’d found trouble of his own. “I found this place five years back, completely dilapidated. I’ve restored it and improved it… but it’s never been  _ mine _ .” There was a bite of frustration in the alpha’s voice as he scrubbed fingers over his chin.

The admission suddenly made sense, and guilt swept over Isak. “No, no. I’m sure there’s a mistake, or I got it wrong—”

But Even was shaking his head. “There’s no other cabin.  _ This  _ is where you were trying to find.”

Licking his lips, Isak tried to figure out where to go from here that wouldn’t endanger himself. It would be relatively easy for the alpha to get rid of the problem that was a stray omega trying to uproot him. Yet, there was a stronger urge for him to reassure this alpha that he hadn’t come to take away the home he’d made—if that was what he was worrying about. “Well, I got here alive then,” he said weakly, trying to give Even a smile. “It was never a permanent solution anway, I’ll move on somewhere else as soon as the weather gets better.” And, in fairness, Eskild had no more claims over this place than Even. It had been neglected since his grandfather was too old to come up here, and almost entirely forgotten with his death—so he’d been warned. This alpha had brought it back to life. But where would he go on to?

Even was studying him again, and Isak couldn’t read anything in his expression. His eyes were deep, they saw more than he would say, but they were not unkind. “You have a right to be here, if this is your friend’s place.”

Isak shrugged. “I’m an unmated omega with no guardian, I don’t have a right to be anywhere.” 

The alpha snorted in disdain. “You say that like you believe it.”

“Whether I believe it or not, it’s the world I live in.” Isak hadn’t intended to let on so much information, but his tone made his discontent clear. It wouldn’t take too much to understand what he had been running from. Yet still the only thing he met was a quiet observation. His chest eased when the meaning of the alpha’s words and their delivery became clear in Isak’s mind. Even held contempt for traditional values for their society—to  _ some _ extent. 

Surprisingly, Isak wanted to hear the questions that quelled behind the alpha’s placid eyes. But all he did was nod. “You need to recover before you can decide what you’ll do.”

Nodding, there wasn’t much more he could do but agree to the temporary compromise of their scenario. Opening his mouth, Isak intended to reassure in some fashion that he wouldn’t push Even from the place he’d changed from—what Eskild had described—as no more than a drafty shack with no amenities to a very comfortable home. But his stomach interrupted the conversation, rumbling loud enough to be heard by all present. 

Even huffed a quiet laugh. “And you’ll need food to recover.” He’d pushed himself out of his chair before Isak could react.

“It’s fine, I just ate. You don’t have to…” But there was no point, Isak decided, as he trailed off. His host was already in the kitchen, rustling around before he emerged again—plate in hand. It was set on the same table his tea occupied, then Even made a brisk path back to his seat, two apples held in one large hand. Isak’s stomach complained again as he peered at the plate. It was more of the delicious stew and bread. 

“The she-wolf wouldn’t forgive me if I she saved you only for me to let you starve.” 

Isak shook his head.  _ Wolves _ ? Even hadn't been joking. Isak had heard there was a bond between wolves and their kind, but being a city dweller for most of his life, they had seemed only stories. “But I just ate,” he murmured, more to himself to counter the obvious fact that he was ravenously hungry again. 

“And when did you last eat before you decided to trek alone in the mountains in a storm?”

Frowning, Isak tried to calculate. “A day?” His supplies had lasted just long enough to reach  foothills. 

“Two days is long enough to go, especially considering your circumstances.” The alpha shifted in his seat before focussing on one of the apples, polishing it against his chest before taking a bite.

Isak found his cheeks heating again as he reached for the plate. The circumstances were relating to his heat, there was no need to specify it further. “I was hoping to get to safety before it really set in. Then all of a sudden…” Isak trailed off. It was awkward to speak of his own nature, not only to an alpha, but when he didn’t really know what to expect from himself. 

“You were almost here,” Even offered. His expression immediately perplexed at giving the reassurance. “But I don’t know if it was brave or stupid doing it in that state.”

“I just—” Isak began. What Even said  was true, but how did he explain himself? “I didn’t know what would happen.” 

There was another pause, and Isak busied himself with the food that had been offered. He should have put up more of a fight, not wanting to take up any more of his hosts supplies than was necessary. But his stomach won out. 

“Shouldn’t you…  _ know _ ?”

All he could do was shake his head. “I haven’t had a heat in years; suppressants.” The sentence was informative enough to win a gentle sound of understanding from the alpha. 

“And you stopped taking them before deciding to go hiking in a storm?” Surprisingly, there was a hint of humour in Even's voice; he was trying to lighten the situation. Evidently the sadness that was inside of the Isak was being sensed. 

“They were taken from me.” And, perhaps in the same way the alpha had felt at his sorrow, Isak could feel comprehension flourish in the air between them. But it was quickly followed by a sharp sting of repellance. Eyes darting up from his food, Isak expected to find Even staring at him with contempt, but instead the alpha looked introspective. Whatever displeasure was felt at the understanding he'd gained wasn’t aimed at Isak. Perhaps there were bad experience of his own to speak of. 

Even cleared his throat before continuing. Whatever he was recalling, the alpha wasn’t about to share. “And you were going to just wait in a cabin in the wilds? With no supplies?” 

Isak let a weak laugh escape his chest. It wasn’t a full proof plan at all, but there was more to it than that. “My friend, he’s going to come when he can. With food and things.” Eskild had reassured him of that, despite the weather. As soon as he could get away without being questioned over Isak’s disappearance; they knew he was close to Isak and would watch him closely. 

Realising that what he’d just said would be a reminder of the threat to Even’s stability here, Isak expected some form of disgruntlement from his host. But all that he did was nod slowly. “That’s a good friend,” he said quietly. 

“The only one I have.” It had been hard making friends when his father was so protective, but Eskild had been a neighbour and always extended time towards the young and spirited omega he would watch over occasionally. His dad hadn’t minded given that Eskild was beta.

“One true friend is better than a dozen false. Or none at all in fact.” It was stated as reassurance, but Even quickly became introspective. Perhaps he had no friends. It wouldn’t be surprising considering his hardened exterior and how much distance had been put between him and society. Isak was stockpiling questions, just like he was sure the alpha had. There was a shared spark of curiosity between them. 

And, as if he could feel the pressure of the queries building in Isak’s mind, Even stood from his chair, the two apple cores in hand. “I’m going to finish up in the kitchen and then,” he nodded towards the ladder that led to the loft above, “I’m going to sleep. You should too.”  

Isak was left to his thoughts after Even moved into the kitchen space, not before taking the plate from Isak’s lap, that he was surprised to see was spotless. This was definitely a peculiar situation, but one that Isak was beginning to feel at ease with. It was a strange sensation, acknowledging an intrigue in an alpha for the first time in his life. But Even didn’t seem to be like anyone he’d met before. There was some common ground between then, despite their differences. He couldn’t stop from searching the alpha with his gaze like his appearance alone would give away secrets without Isak having to ask this private individual questions. Maybe they would get more time to get to know each other. Perhaps tomorrow, if Isak didn’t put his foot in it again. Even moved with a fluid grace as he snuffed the lamps except two near Isak, and added some logs to the fire before relighting one of the incense sticks that had lost its orange glow. 

“You like a lot of incense, huh?” Isak mused.

Even’s gaze flittered to Isak before he turned away towards it ladder. “It helps,” he said simply. 

It became clear then, their use; it masked Isak’s scent. It would have been stronger than usual when Even had found him. Swallowing, Isak considered just how much of a burden he’d already been on this peculiar person, who was also resistant to any gratitude at all.  _ A modest alpha? _

“If you want to read, help yourself to the books. And there’s a spare toothbrush in the washroom,” he cast over his shoulder before scaling the ladder.

“Thank you.” The creak of the rungs was the only response Isak received for the thanks. 

Even began to make himself comfortable. Isak closed his eyes and settled in his own cocoon while listening to the quiet rustle of the alpha’s clothes as they were removed. For whatever reason that sound seemed more pervasive than the wind outside. 

Then there came a heavy sigh from above. “Sleep well, Isak.”

Isak let free a heavy exhale of contentment before burrowing deeper into the blankets. He would read tomorrow. With a full belly and the feeling of safety surrounding him once more, Isak felt heavy with fatigue. Even was right, he would need to recover. With that stray thought in mind, and his usually mulish response to having been given such a direct suggestion strangely absent, Isak gave into sleep. 

“Good night, Even.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is it that I know?” His own imagination had certainly drawn some conclusions, but there were no specifics.
> 
> “I think you can join the dots.”
> 
> “Assume I'm just a thick skulled, boarish alpha. Which, of course, I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here I am again with this nonsense.
> 
> ENJOY!

###  Chapter Three

Even gripped the short log, setting it carefully on the chopping stump. Stepping back, he laid the edge of the blade to mark the centre of the circle he intended to split. Inhaling, he raised the axe, letting his hands slide to the end of the haft and used the momentum to bring the tool back down. It landed with a biting thud. Just like the knee high pile he’d made that morning, this log split with one hit; a smooth precise divide. He nodded subconsciously at his own handiwork before laying the pieces atop of the pile. 

There had been a break in the snowfall, and if Even had learned anything from his time up here it was that you chopped wood when the weather was clear. No matter how much faith you held in your stockpile lasting out, the weather was a fickle thing—fickle and deadly. 

If he was honest with himself, and Even usually was, it was also a reason to be out of the cabin. The previous patients, who had taken residence on that sofa, had never before made Even feel like he was walking on tiptoe. But this one could talk, and it seemed that they thoroughly enjoyed doing so. 

The morning had brought with it a bizarre unease. Even had woken earlier than usual only to carry out a detailed study of the planks that ran above his head, listening to the wind that whistled as it planed across the roof. But he was all too aware of the second body in the room that—when they weren't overcome with an exhausted fever—snored. It wasn’t a buzzsaw snore, but more of a purr. It was oddly fascinating. Even had ended up forcing himself from his blankets because he kept staring curiously at the lump beneath the blankets, in the room below his loft, without realising what he was doing. It was rude to stare, even if the other person was ignorant to the attention. 

The worries that should have been multiplying in his head were strangely quiet. At some point he would have to figure out what was to be done when the owner, of what he’d grown accustomed to as his home, suddenly turned up. He should be planning his next move. Instead, Even examined the information he was fed last night, trying to glean whatever he could from it. 

It wasn’t like it mattered, he told himself again. They would part ways in some fashion. Yet, still, he couldn’t quell the curiosity this particular person had ignited. 

It had become evident that the omega was also a deep sleeper. The rustling of clothes, creaking ladder rungs, straining floorboards,  _ and  _ opening of the cupboards and cabin door did nothing to interrupt his rest. But if things sounded as bad as the omega had hinted they were, this might be the first time for a stretch that he’d felt some form of safety.

Even frowned as he brought the axe down again on the log next in line. The swing was too hard and the fragments flew from the block, leaving the blade stuck into the broad stump that served that purpose. Studying the tool now wedged by the overuse of his strength, Even analysed the ire that had been sparked so quickly. It seemed that he could relate in a way to this person he’d found; Even had escaped a fate he had no desire for as well. But there was also an element of distaste in his own internal wording of the situation. 

_ Isak. _

His name was Isak. Not omega. 

Nodding to himself, content over his silent chastisement, Even gripped the haft and yanked it free. He should know better than anyone not to cast judgment over something as ambiguous as gender—or blended sex as some liked to term it when referring to omegas. Even had never liked that term. It sounded more like a refined tool than a human. Despite the fact that the omegas he’d met acted like that was exactly what they were, he still refused it. Similarly, calling his guest simply  _ omega  _ would strip away this person’s identity, reducing them to one base thing. He’d hated being referred to as just  _ alpha _ . 

He was Even. 

And Isak was very definitely Isak, Even mused. 

Last night he’d observed a very unique identity. One that Even had never experienced in someone who was omegan, not that his experience was vast. There was no shying away, no simpering, no doe eyes. That was a good thing too because those behaviours irritated Even. Isak had woken to find himself being guarded by an unknown alpha and the only weakness he’d shown was momentarily reaching for his neck. That wasn’t necessarily a weakness either, more a fear. And, if Even could distance himself from the personal attack that action thrust upon him, he couldn’t blame his guest for that reaction. Especially considering the hinted horrors he’d just managed to overcome. 

Something that had become instantly apparent was the quickness that lay behind Isak’s eyes. They absorbed detail, took stock of the situation, and evaluated swiftly. His behaviour had adjusted once the initial shock had past; he’d been intent on them speaking. And, at one point which was still baffling, Even had felt his stomach clamp down on amusement that wanted to burst out of him as laughter, all because of the persistent attitude. It was unsettling just how many emotions had been prodded at in the short period of time spent with his guest. 

Even supposed that he was beautiful—to those that appreciate that sort of thing. He was definitely  _ not  _ one of those people. Isak’s eyes were quite lovely; a deep forest green. They’d startled Even just as much as Even had startled Isak; they were so wide and awake—beyond his years. And his mouth was about as unique as his personality, like a cupid’s bow. Mirth simmered in the pit of his gut again when Even recalled how Isak had almost pouted at one point, frustrated at Even's silence no doubt. He was probably used to getting his way with a single bat of one elegant eyelash. But if Isak was expecting a flamboyant and charming alpha he would be disappointed. 

And there was a long line of disappointed people left in Even's wake, the majority being omegan. Isak would undoubtedly join those ranks soon—not that it mattered. It would be sad, Even supposed, to see intrigue die in Isak, replaced with reproach or disgust. Curiosity seemed at home in those eyes. 

Forest green eyes… 

“Can I help?” 

The grunt left his mouth before Even had control of himself, lurching at the sudden intrusion. Whirling around, the noise evolved into a growl that resonated deep within his chest. “Don't do that!” he snarled. 

The ferocious impact Even had intended to inflict was completely lost. Isak was stood, wearing all the clothes Even had found him in, with only his eyes visible above the loaned scarf. But he didn't flinch, or even frown. His eyebrows rose a fraction and Even wanted to pull down the knitted material to see if a grin curved Isak’s lips like he suspected. 

But whatever emotion Even had intended to hold onto was lost in a confusing flurry. Bundled as he was, Isak looked quite ridiculous, in a way that couldn't be appreciated the night Even had found him. The boots were much too big and it seemed like Even had in fact been confronted by a pile of laundry. That amusement was overlapped by something else; his guest was out here in the cold, protected as best as could be done, and offering his help. Appreciation bloomed in Even. And the final straw was acknowledging how very fragile Isak looked out here, small to Even's eyes. The shock of experiencing protection was more overwhelming than being disturbed in the first place. Those varied reactions made it obvious he'd been far from society for a long time. 

_ That _ must be the reason these sensations were so irrational, he assured himself. 

Irritation, humour, appreciation and protectiveness; one interesting and conflicting mix.

“Do what?” Isak asked, voice muffled by material wrapped tightly around his neck. His expression looked concerned now. Evidently, Even hadn't hid his flustered state well. 

“I was splitting wood. I could have hurt you or me. Don't creep around like that.” Even grumbled. He bent to pick up one piece of wood that had flown from the brutal chop he'd meted out. Where the other was, he wasn't sure. Busying himself with selecting the next log to be halved, Even struggled to think of the last time someone had startled him. Selecting a hefty log next, he set it down on the stump, before scanning the ground again. It wasn’t good to waste your energy with nothing to show for it. 

There was a pause. The cogs turning in Isak's quick brain could almost be heard in the clearing. “You were just standing there. For a while now.” 

Even huffed in dismissal. “It's hard work, I'm allowed to rest.” His eyes darted around the snowy ground, searching for the missing segment of firewood before he committed to saying something he knew was pure ignorance. But being caught off guard had sent his sense of judgment flailing. “But you probably wouldn't know much about hard work.” 

An ominous quiet stretched out as Even became increasingly frustrated that he could not find what he was looking for, and that he seemed to have little control over his reactions—physical and verbal. Counter arguments to his claim were already echoing from the walls of his skull; that Isak had escaped with little help, walked from the city to the mountainside with minimal supplies, before collapsing in exhaustion mid heat. That was perhaps more strenuous than what Even had ever been through. He’d come out here to help, only to be met with insolence. 

Guilt now tangled in with the messy threads of emotion pulling in all directions. An itch settled between his shoulder blades, making Even turn to Isak and check that he was still there. Those sharp words might have snapped at his heels, chasing him back to the cabin. Not that Even cared if they had. 

But the pile of laundry was still there, head cocked to one side and a peevish gaze aimed at Even. In one hand was the missing log. Instead of an acidic reply—that Even was sure he was more than capable of—Isak simply extended his arm, offering the very thing Even had been searching for. 

“Can I help?” he asked again, voice harder now than before. 

Even let out a sigh, already aware that this particular being would not give up. Striding forwards, he took the offered firewood with a mumbled thanks. “You should be in the warm—resting.” 

Before he turned back to his work, Even saw Isak shrug in indifference. “I was bored.” 

“ _ Bored _ ,” Even repeated with a grunt. “You have no idea what your body needs to do to recover.  _ I _ have no idea if you need anything more than what I have: medicine, or… or—” he cut off, frustrated that he wasn’t making much sense. But he  _ was  _ right; Isak should be resting instead of venturing into the cold because he was bored. “My point is…” Even began but his words tapered off as gumboots crunched their way across the snow, but not towards the cabin. Frowning over his shoulder, Even observed as Isak plodded towards the branches felled earlier, cut to length but yet to be trimmed of their smaller limbs and twigs. “What are you doing?” 

Isak didn’t bother looking up at him as he reached for the smaller one handed axe left wedged into the branch that needed delimbing next. He stabbed one end of the limb into the snow, propping it upright with his left hand while he weighed the axe in the other. It was turned a full circle, examining what was to be done, before Isak squatted and began carefully trimming the twigs and thick bark from the main body.  

“You don’t look like a person that accepts help, so.” Isak’s gaze flitted up to Even, and Even was sure that amused grin was hiding beneath the scarf again. But all he could do was watch, confounded by how easily the skill was being handled by this befuddling creature. How did he know what he was doing? And why did he feel he could be so forthright with his assistance? True, Even didn’t like to accept anyone’s help, but it wasn’t out of buffoonery. It was simply because he was quite happy and able to do things by himself. That way it was done right. 

“How long have you been watching me?” 

A withering look was levelled at Even before Isak focussed back on the wood at hand. “I heard you cutting. I only just got here when you decided to take a rest from your  _ hard work _ .” Emphasis was placed on those last two words that Even did not like at all. He’d probably earned it nonetheless. And  _ here  _ was a clearing about fifty meters from the cabin, the sound of the blade hitting the stump would have been audible with the respite the wind had given them. Now thick grey clouds toiled overhead; the break in the weather would be short lived. 

“So how do you know what you’re doing?”

“Well,” Isak began, pulling his chin free from the scarf, “I can see that the pile you’ve worked on is smooth, and this pile isn’t. Along with this thing that I  _ think  _ might be called an axe,” a sharp gaze cut into Even as the sarcasm was delivered, “it doesn’t take too many brain cells to figure it out. But I can’t be sure, I only possess the frail brain of an omega who has never done a hard day's work in their life.” He wasn’t even bothering to hide the smirk that Even had long since suspected was present. There was nothing else for Even to do but look away, feeling thoroughly shamed.     

Just like time and pressure inevitably makes the rock give to the sea, something broke free within Even. He was as shocked as Isak appeared to be—startled into stillness—when laughter erupted from his chest, low and gruff, but a laugh it was all the same. “Sorry,” he managed to say, once his unpractised mirth had eased. Leaning on the heft of his axe, he allowed himself to smile. It felt odd after so much time living a sombre existence. The lungful of air Even inhaled tasted cleaner somehow. “I'm sorry,” he repeated. As his focus returned to Isak, the expression his guest wore shifted from bemusement to a half smile before he shook his head. 

“It's fine. I've heard worse.” 

“That doesn't make it any better.” 

Isak chewed his lower lip, still considering Even, who was suppressing the urge to square his shoulders under the scrutiny. “I reacted badly towards you yesterday.” Learned behaviour was offered up as a way to nullify Even's freely voiced ignorance. 

“That's  _ not _ the same,” he argued back. “That was an understandable reaction. I've just been up here too long to know how to be civilised.” His eyes dropped to the chopping block and his work. Even hadn't spoken so much in years. He wasn't sure what was too much, and what wasn’t enough. It was better to err on the side of caution.

Gripping the handle, he pulled free the blade, lined it up to the centre and swung. The blow was much better tempered this time; the halves didn't stray far from the stump. Bending, he picked both up in one hand before setting them on the pile. It was when he moved to grab another log that he noticed Isak was still watching him. His movements faltered under the gaze as his foot found a hidden root.  

“You might be…  _ rough  _ around the edges, but you’re more civilised than most  _ people _ I've known.” 

Even grunted, unsure what to say. It felt like praise. “That doesn't say a great deal for the people you've known.” And by people, it sounded as if Isak specifically meant alphas. 

The gaze that held Even didn't relent until Isak rolled his eyes, then he was back to his work, but he continued to speak. “Most  _ people _ , who know what you know, wouldn't offer me hospitality. And if they weren't beta, I’d probably be dragged back to where I came from.” 

Worrying his lip as he bounced the next log in line on his open palm, Even considered the question that danced in his mouth. Isak seemed to conjure too many questions, where usually he was passive to the warp and weft of life. “What is it that I know?” His own imagination had certainly drawn some conclusions, but there were no specifics. 

“I think you can join the dots.” 

“Assume I'm just a thick skulled, boarish alpha. Which, of course, I am.” 

Isak snorted in derision as he shook his head again. Even tried to focus on the manual labor he'd never had issue completing before. Now he fought the urge to sit, talk, and listen. It was being away from people for so long, this  _ must  _ be a novelty and nothing more, he surmised. 

“Well,” Isak began, “The alpha who protected me died, and my  _ care _ was passed onto the community. I was  _ rehomed _ like a damn dog and my suppressants were taken because  _ apparently _ I'm past due for bonding. One particularly  _ thick skulled _ and  _ boarish _ alpha figured he would be the one to do just that. And I'm sure it wasn't the first time he was wrong either.” Even had stopped altogether, leaning once more on his axe and realising a grin had spread across his face as observed Isak speak in such a contemptuous way. His sharp chin was tipped up in defiance of the very memory he was recalling. Even had the distinct notion that anyone that tried to pressure this particular human into a trivial matter would regret it sourly. The ignorant beast that tried to force Isak into bonding would live an uncomfortable—and probably unnaturally short—life. Even could almost pity whoever that fool was if the intended actions weren't so diabolical. 

Whatever amusement was found in the moment melted quickly as Even considered the statement that had been made. Who was the alpha that had died? And Isak wasn't wrong, most people would force an omega on the run from their  _ rightful  _ guardians back into their situation. In the least, no help would be extended. Even had never met an omega that didn't want to be bonded, or that was what they outwardly presented. On the other hand, he was at a loss to recall an alpha who wasn't set on dominance—over family, nature, or situations. 

And now here Isak was, proving his assumptions wrong. But then, Even had been cause for many to frown at, going against their assumptions of what he  _ should _ be. Were they both an anomaly? Or perhaps more alphas and omegas felt out of place but simply conformed for traditions’ sake? Either way, two misfits finding each other—out in the Wilds—held a certain poetic ideal. Not that Even was poetic. 

The point was, Even reminded himself, Isak had come from a painful situation and one that he could relate to. The need to probe further pulled at him, but it was probably more important to assure Isak that he was safe. “I can understand. I didn't end up out here on a whim either.” Even's jaw clamped shut once the statement was out. Perhaps Isak wouldn't judge for the shortcomings that he possessed, but that didn't make it easier to discuss his own path to this isolated point, when he'd never done so before. 

Isak watched him with quiet expectation and it jogged Even into motion, placing the wood on the block. Relaxing his tensed muscles, the walls that had wavered for a moment solidified. “What I'm saying is you’re safe. I won't make you do what you don't want.” His voice was gruffer than intended, and he frowned at his axe like it was at fault for his sudden black mood. “We should keep on, the weather will turn.” 

It was a physical sensation, when Isak turned his scrutiny back to his own hands, like the sun had gone behind a cloud. The way his skin prickled under his guest’s attention was uncomfortable, but there was a warmth there too. Shoving the overactive thoughts to the back of his mind, Even focussed solely on the swing of his arms, not giving a thought to how tall his stack of firewood had grown. It was only when the wind began to bite again, tugging at his coat that hung loose, and one frigid kiss of snow landed on his cheek, that he snapped out of his automated mode. 

Looking over to where Isak worked, Even clicked his tongue in vexation. Where he’d driven on with the task, so had Isak—without complaint. But only one of them was accustomed to the weather and work. The scarf had been drawn up again, Isak’s cheeks were rosy from exertion, and they were a strong contrast to the pale, marble expanses of skin around his eyes and across his forehead, and the tip of his nose was an angry red. When his motions paused, Even could see shivers running through his body. Apparently the strong will that made up this particular human blended seamlessly with stubborness. 

“That’s enough,” Even announced, frowning in concern as he kept study of Isak. But all he got in reply was a nod. Moving with efficiency, Even had the firewood stacked on the large plastic sled he used for this task, covered in tarp and secured with bungees in no time. It was only a short distance to the cabin but it was best not to waste any energy with mistakes; unsecured timber often found its way to escape. The dozen limbs that hadn’t been trimmed yet were added as well, they would keep for next time. 

Isak wrapped his arms around himself as he trudged by Even’s side, all his focus seemed to be on keeping up—stride for stride. Even had considered telling him to sit on the sled—there was room at the nose—but he was sure the suggestion wouldn’t have been met with agreement, and that was putting it mildly. But when they stopped at the dry store built onto the side of the cabin, Isak continued to try and help transferring the stock.

“Why don’t you take those inside and add to the fire. It’ll need more by now.” Even nodded absentmindedly at the stack Isak cradled in his arms, keeping all focus on his task. If the suggestion was delivered in a off hand fashion perhaps Isak would be agreeable. 

Isak slowed, grabbing another segment of wood to add to his pile. “I can take some in once we’ve finished.” The muscles in his jaw were straining, Even suspected to keep his teeth from chattering. 

“We're almost done.” 

“So it won't take long.” 

“You need to be in the warm.” 

_ “I'm fine.” _

Even huffed in exasperation before rolling his eyes. Isak was the definition of foolhardy. Forsaking the job at hand, Even considered that he was about to go against what had been assured not even thirty minutes ago. But Isak was hardly being sensible—or honest. It was obvious that he wasn't fine. 

Green eyes widened as Even started towards him. “What are you doing?” 

Luckily, Isak was overworked on top of being frozen to the spot, otherwise there would have been a scuffle. In full strength, Even was certain Isak could give as good as he got. Here and now, all that was available were his lungs which emitted an indignant squawk as Even gripped him, hauling him easily into his arms with a smooth motion so the load Isak held onto wasn't displaced. It was easy to feel the shivers running through him when his slight frame was pressed to Even. 

“You  _ need  _ to be in the warm.” The reply was growled, but it wasn’t intended to come off as threatening. Even was simply agitated by how much Isak had been affected by the weather without him noticing. He  _ knew  _ better. The vexation was entirely self-aimed.

But he had no need to worry that his demeanor would have been taken as frightening. Isak wriggled in Even's arms like a bear with a wasp in its mouth, sputtering in disagreeable outrage. “ _ You can't just—just… pick me up like a goddamn animal. _ ” Legs were kicked out, fruitlessly attacking thin air. But Even was moving, focussed on the cabin door. His elbow found the handle, pushing down as he put his back against the wood. It gave easily, and closed just as smoothly using his heel. “ _ You can't fucking handle me like this _ !” Isak continued, shocked but furious, and entirely fearless. 

“When you don't know what's good for you, I can.” 

“ _ And you know what's good for me _ ?” It wasn't a question, more a dare for Even to claim that he thought that was the case and open the can to a whole host of new, potentially fatal, arguments.

Grinning probably wasn't the best thing to do in this scenario, but Even couldn't help himself when he looked down at the angry pile of laundry and logs. Isak’s eyes were sparking with passionate outrage, stoked by Even's amusement. 

“Your lips are blue, did you know that?” 

He frowned then, mouth slightly parted, intending to spleen further. But instead, the back of his hand scrubbed across his lips. “That’s not— _ they’re fine _ . I feel  _ fine _ .”

“Can you feel your toes?” By this point Even had reached the sofa and deposited Isak, it was punctuated by an unimpressed huff from his guest. Pulling the firewood from Isak’s grip, Even placed it into the basket next to the hearth before grabbing every pillow and blanket that had been thrown over or arranged on the sofa, arraying them on the floor in front of the lively flames. Two logs were added to the fire so it jumped and licked farther up the blackened walls of the chimney 

“I can feel most of them,” Isak admitted, sounding more put out than angry by this point. 

Even tsked, “It’s easy to lose fingers and toes to the weather. You think it’s a blessing when they’re numb but it’s a warning.” Isak didn’t reply but he studied Even’s booted feet as they approached, obviously considering the knowledge came from personal experience. “I could have only one pinky toe left for all you know,” Even added with a short grunted laugh.

Isak narrowed his eyes as he looked up, but a crooked smile was pulling at his mouth. “ _ Pinky toe _ ?” he repeated, scorn poured over the words.

It was surprising that being made fun of didn’t inspire ire in him. Instead Even found himself amused by Isak’s jibe, it was better than the wrath. “ _ Little toe _ —whatever.” He had to be firm with his mouth as it ached to curve into a smile when Isak scoffed at him. Crouching, Even hid his mirth by ducking his head, and changed the subject by gripping one of Isak's boots. 

“ _ I _ can do that.” 

“You  _ can _ ,” Even agreed, “but you weren't.” He made quick work of yanking both boots off, before Isak could react with anything more than a displeased huff. 

Standing, he looked to the fire and then back to Isak, who tracked Even's gaze before meeting his eyes again. The notion of bundling Isak right back up into his arms again, to place him directly in the makeshift bed close to the fire, crossed Even's mind. 

But it seemed his thoughts had been read as Isak began to shake his head with vigor. “ _ Don't you dare _ ,” he began, the vehemence back in his voice. 

The urge to smile ignited again, so Even turned towards the door, striding away. There was work to finish. “Well, do the sensible thing then. Get by the warmth.” Isak looked as though he was going to hit back, mouth open and chin jutting up, but Even overrode him. “Just don't put your feet too close. If you can't feel the heat, you can burn without realising.” Whatever Isak had intended to say was lost and he simply nodded. So he did listen to sense. 

Wind forced its way into the cabin when the door was opened, so Even made his exit a quick one. But there wasn't much left to be done, despite snow already laying thick on the logs that were left on the sled. Before he could begin to shiver, the task was complete and the dry store was full to bursting. It didn’t escape his notice that Isak’s work of smoothing the wood couldn’t be faulted.

By the time Even returned to the cabin, analysing the back and forth of their conversation that afternoon, he'd lost the fight with the unpractised emotion that kept being plucked at. A smile had appeared without Even being any wiser as he closed the cabin door and began to unlace his boots. He may have overdone it too, his muscles and back were beginning to complain. Food would have to be made but perhaps it could be a low energy dinner. Would Isak be OK with that? He should probably ask what his guest liked to eat.

“I was right, not much left to do. You did all the hard work—” Even cut off as he turned towards where he'd left Isak. His smile deepened to a grin. There was a small mound curled in front of the fire, quite still, and emitting that low purr that came when Isak slept.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That tendril was a finger, carelessly soothing skin that had never been touched. Or maybe it had, but in this moment Isak had never known contact. It felt new. It was the only thing that mattered in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been hectic, but here is another chapter... it's a little long <3
> 
> You can go ahead and listen to Bite by Troye Sivan during the end section, I did <3
> 
> Love, Becs

###  Chapter Four

It was late—well, late for up here. The man on the radio said it was six about three songs ago; it was already evening. Isak frowned at the fire, unbeknownst to the pout his lips made. 

The last few days had been like the first full one. Isak would wake after Even, sometimes catching him before he’d left to do work, sometimes Isak would find himself alone. But he would never be alone for long, it was a matter of how fast he could eat, wash, and dress. Once he was outside, Even could be easily found. He never roamed far, and noise could be heard acutely in all directions where the cabin was positioned. If those two factors weren’t present, Isak was sure he could follow his nose by now; Even’s scent had become ingrained like a memory. 

The chores were mundane on paper: fixing a window shutter, oiling hinges, checking the waterproofing. In reality the tasks were fun, Isak was learning more about a different way of life, and their conversations had eased. But Even was just like the hinges the cold seemed to make irregular. One moment there was an ease, and he attempted to smile and laugh at times, then he would realise how loose he’d become and the walls would come up. 

Isak was patient however. Normally, he wouldn’t bother with people that purposefully distanced themselves; if they didn’t want to know him, that was no skin off Isak’s nose. But, here and now, he couldn’t help but be intrigued and curious about his host. There were obviously things he’d run from, too—like Isak. And, although Even probably wouldn’t admit it, he extended empathy towards Isak. And it didn’t feel like pity, Isak simply felt understood without knowing the details as to why. Anytime they edged closer to Even opening up, the conversation cut off. But on each occasion the gap in his armor seemed less defended. 

Isak had also learned not to ignore the sidelong and concerned looks he received once they had been outside over long. Even hadn’t picked him up like a baby since that first day—which was good because Isak wouldn’t have liked to fight his host, even if it was on principle alone. Chewing his lip, Isak recalled the emotion that laid beneath indignation. He’d felt a baffling amount of relief when Even held him. Perhaps it was finding someone that was genuinely concerned for Isak’s well being—that had been lacking since his dad died and Eskild had been estranged from him. And Even had been right about him resting; all his body seemed to want to do was eat and sleep—that was granted without any judgment or grumbling. 

Shifting a blanket from his lap, Isak inched forward from his seat in the armchair, reaching out to grab another log and cast it onto the fire. A pan rested on the metal grill that slotted above the flames. Pulling his sleeve down to cover his palm, Isak gripped the handle and jostled the contents. He felt proud that he’d done something, despite the day being unlike the previous. And that was unnerving. 

Easing back into his place, and wrapping the blankets over him once more, Isak huffed an impatient sigh. There had been no sign of Even since he’d woken. No note left, no sounds echoing across the dense snow, no plates of food left out when Isak roused from a nap, no signs of his host whatsoever. And Isak couldn’t help his mind from providing many scenarios of terrible circumstances that had befallen Even. They would all be Isak’s fault because he was  _ sure  _ Even only made himself so busy to get out of the cabin and grant them both space for a while. 

But they had been spending more and more time together. It hadn’t gone without notice that less incense was being burned. That knowledge tugged at Isak’s gut, either in anticipation or warning and he wasn’t sure which. It seemed they were both getting used to each other. He should leave soon; that thought was a recurring one, but it ebbed away whenever Isak spent time with Even. It was unforeseen, but this situation was…  _ nice.  _

He was frowning again as the thought circled in his brain for the hundredth time that day. The snow hadn’t stopped him the night he’d wandered up here. Perhaps he could face it again to search for Even. His eyes fell on the gum boots set by the wall just as the cabin door banged open, sending Isak lurching to his feet and the blanket pooling around his ankles. There was nothing to be done about the furious glare he aimed at the humanesque shape stumbling in through the entrance, chased by wind and snow before both were cut off as Even shouldered the door closed. 

With every moment that passed, as Even unwrapped layer on layer of clothing, Isak drew himself up—arms folded and chin tilted. When Even finished toeing off his boots and turned, he froze, eyes widening and his face becoming ominously blank. Isak had the distinct impression he was trying not to smile. 

“Hi,” he said, eyebrows jolting in a now familiar way that meant he was enjoying whatever was being displayed. That notion only provoked Isak. 

“So you’re alive then,” he stated icily. 

Even looked down as he removed his gloves and shoved them in his pocket, an expression of bewilderment on his face. “Why wouldn’t I be?” It was asked tentatively. 

“Perhaps because I haven’t seen you all day, and there was no note, and there's a blizzard outside— _ and  _ wolves.” Each point made was clipped, like Isak was berating a child. It’d been rude to leave him worrying all day. 

There was one point that Isak left off, that he was sure Even had considered before now too: those that claimed Isak may have caught up with him. Most of the ire was worry, and Isak wasn’t sure he’d ever been so concerned over someone. It was their circumstances, he told himself—it  _ must _ be. That aside, he had a right to be pissed off, and the mood wasn’t helped when Even considered him, tilting his head to one side. It reminded Isak of the way someone might look at a lone puppy, stuck on the other side of a pet shop window. 

Firming his jaw, Isak barely held himself back from jumping up on the sofa just so he could have the higher ground. He opened his mouth, preparing something cutting to chide Even with over his careless behaviour but he stalled when large palms were brandished in his direction; Even was trying to placate the situation, evidently reading the irritation live in Isak. 

“Sorry— _ I’m _ sorry,” he said, with that under practiced grin bring offered to Isak. It was becoming more charming with every attempt, and there had been a gradual increase in attempts over the days they had spent together. Isak softened, he couldn’t do anything else. “I didn’t realise you would worry so much.”

Isak huffed, and then spluttered before he replied. “ _ Worried _ ? I wasn’t worried. It was just… it was rude of you.”

Now Even was nodding in agreement, but the smile was still there, tugging at the corners of his mouth—not entirely convinced of what he was being told. “It was rude,  _ definitely  _ rude. I won’t do it again. I promise.”

As much as he wanted to challenge Even’s lack of conviction in Isak's correction, truce seemed a much better offer when ice blue eyes held him. They didn’t seem cold anymore, if they’d ever felt that way at all. They were warm and comforting. Isak was nodding before realising what he was doing.

“Good,” he said, trying to sound as firm as he should, given that he had every right to be annoyed and Even had given in easily. Instead the word came out a relieved sigh. There was no two ways about it, Isak was glad Even was safe. Was it because they were forming a friendship? Or was it simply as instinctual as the need to survive out here? 

“Phew.” Even wiped faux sweat from his brow with the exclamation. 

“ _ What _ ?”

“I thought you were going to fight me for a moment. It looked like you were about to charge, and I honestly don’t think I stand a chance.” His eyebrows rose again, this time something stirred in Isak’s gut. Maybe he was hungry again. 

Isak snorted. “You wouldn’t.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Even replied. It didn’t sound like he disagreed, but it also seemed like a prospect that Isak’s host didn’t find terrifying. It was almost as if the idea to him was fun. If Isak ever decided to put his hands on Even, he would not find it fun at all and would sorely regret whatever had pushed the circumstances in that direction—Isak would make sure of it. 

“I usually  _ am _ .” The words were imperious in Isak’s own ears. 

But Even didn’t counter the condescending attitude. Instead he gestured to the bag that had been placed by the door. “I had to collect one of the generators from town. And we needed some supplies too. I think there’s something in here that might work as an apology for making you— _ for being rude _ .”

The slip up was ignored as Isak watched Even rustle through the bag before he pulled out a bottle of amber liquid. The fangs that were flashed with his smile weren’t so intimidating. They had never been in fact. “I don’t know if you drink whiskey, but it keeps you warm…” he trailed off, other factors in the cabin making themselves known to him. Even’s eyes darted to the fire at first and then he sniffed, head turning towards the kitchen. “You cooked?”

“Well I wasn’t going to starve.”

Even huffed a laugh at the dramatic notion. “There were cold cuts and bread. You didn’t have to—”

“I  _ wanted _ to. I like cooking.”

Nodding, Even turned his eyes back on Isak. Suddenly his skin felt too tight as heat flooded his face. “Thank you.” 

“There may not be any left. I could have eaten every bite for all you know.”

“Did you?”

“ _ No _ . Of course I didn’t, but—”

“May I have some then?” 

Isak could do nothing but splutter, flustered and not sure how it got to this point. “ _ Yes _ , you don’t need to ask that. It was  _ your  _ food. I just cooked it.” He trailed off, turning back to the fire and to tend what he was roasting, trying to ignore the grin he knew was at his back. 

The pan was on the hearthstone and Isak was shelling his fifth chestnut by the time Even came to settle on the floor near him—plate in hand, whiskey clasped between his forearm and chest and two tumblers grasped by long, deft fingers. It had been an odd new thing they did, sitting on the floor. After Even had made him a makeshift bed in front of the fire, Isak hadn’t moved it back. It was the warmest and most comfortable spot in the cabin. And Even had forgone the armchair to get down to Isak’s level when they ate and spoke. 

The glasses clinked as they were set to one side with the bottle, and Isak could hear Even begin to eat. He could also feel those blue eyes still on him. It seemed that Even had fought against the urge to examine Isak for so long, but now—for a reason Isak couldn’t fathom—he’d given in, and was enjoying watching entirely too much. Probably waiting to see where Isak would mess something up. 

“Stop that,” he muttered into the pan. 

“Stop what?” 

“Watching me.”

Even snorted a short laugh. “You’re intriguing. I can’t help it.”

“Well  _ learn _ .”  _ Intriguing? _ What did that mean? “That’s rude too.”

“What is?”

“Staring.”

There was another grunt of laughter. Isak frowned down at his hands, palms now sweating under Even’s scrutiny, his ribs seemed to be closing in as his heart beat against them. It was unnerving for a reason that eluded him. He was  _ not  _ scared, that was for sure. Isak was proud of the fact he’d never been scared in his life. One odd and coarse alpha wasn’t going to change that. Despite his words, Isak was still being watched. Before he could berate Even, Even decided to speak his mind. 

“You’re clever and brave, you know how to survive, you work hard, you cook, you know how to peel chestnuts  _ and  _ win arguments…” Even left off as he forked another mouthful of food into his mouth. But it didn’t matter that Isak had been left space to speak because he had nothing to say, the list had left him speechless. Was Even complimenting him? “Is there anything you can’t do?” he added. 

Isak could do nothing but shrug. It  _ was  _ a compliment and it was genuine. What did he do with it? Flattery he’d had before, empty words meant to curry favour. They’d been meaningless. But what Even said felt loaded; he was observing Isak with no motives and stating what he saw honestly. Apparently he valued Isak. 

“My dad. He always wanted me to be useful, to be able to look after myself. He taught me as much as he could; wood work, cooking, DIY, electrics… whatever he knew how to do he showed me. And when he saw that I liked studying and learning, he supported that too. He used to say ‘Never just be  _ one  _ thing for someone else, be  _ everything  _ for yourself first’.”  Isak paused as he picked out another chestnut to work on. A sombre mood descended quickly on him. He’d never really figured out what his dad had meant by that, and now he never would. And if that was the first part what came next?

Quiet stretched out between them, Even was caught up in thought as much as Isak. “But to answer your question,” he continued, trying to steer from that path of thought, “I can’t  _ not  _ be omegan, apparently.” He regretted the answer as soon as it was out; another sore spot. The only limitations Isak seemed to face were ones that society placed on him. He was judged before anyone knew him, and once they knew him he was still considered omegan first before being Isak in their eyes. The only exceptions being his dad and Eskild… 

“You don’t have to stop being omegan, because being an omega doesn’t stop you from being  _ you _ . You’re unique, Isak.” 

...And now Even.

Isak couldn’t help but jerk his head towards Even, taken aback by the comment so much his jaw hung open. But Even seemed completely unaware of the impact his statement had made, completely engrossed by the food under his nose. He hummed as he took another mouthful. 

_ Even thought he was unique? _

“This is really good,” he murmured, ignorant to the stupor Isak was in. 

“Thanks. It’s nothing, just rice and some meat and sauce—whatever that meat was in the freezer.” 

“Red deer. And it’s  _ not  _ nothing. Those smell good too,” he said, nodding at the chestnuts Isak had finished shelling while offering a tumbler—two fingers of whiskey swirled and sparkled at the base. 

“Thank you,” Isak said quietly, accepting the glass and pressing it to his lips. He was gracious for the drink, still unable to acknowledge the praise. The whiskey was strong to his nose, but he could already feel the warmth Even spoke about. Sharp, heated, then smooth, the liquid spread through him, his muscles relaxing as he sighed. This  _ was  _ nice. Grabbing a chestnut, Isak tossed it into his mouth. He’d already eaten his share of dinner.

“So that’s one thing you can’t do.”

“What?”

“Take a compliment. How can someone be so aware and free to state their own accomplishments, but you can’t bear it when someone points them out?”

Isak shrugged. How did you explain that? “I’m used to having to state who I am and what I can do. I’m not used to people doing that for me.”

“Well, people are dumb.” 

“That’s true.” 

Isak dared to look over at Even; the food on his plate was almost finished and it sat at his side while he stared at his own drink. He was reflective, it happened when something in their conversation provoked his own personal experience. It was an experience Isak wanted to know about. He’d shared a lot with Even, more than Isak imagined he could share with someone so new. It wasn’t too much to ask for a little information back. 

“What brought you up here?” Even looked as shocked as Isak felt at his own wording. He hadn’t intended to be so blunt. But, in a heartbeat, Even softened and shook his head. Would he share this time, or close up?

“Brought isn’t really the word. I ran up here. Like you did.”

Isak licked his lips, whiskey lingered on them. Was there a diplomatic way around this topic? “What were you running from?”

“My family,” Even replied. There was strength in his words, like he’d rehearsed this conversation. That notion gave Isak the courage to carry on, that and the wide eyes that were still resting on him. They looked open, waiting and willing. 

“You know about me—how I got here. Can you tell me? What happened to you?”

Letting out a sigh, Even rolled his shoulders, casting his gaze to the ceiling. “They’re proud and  _ pure _ .” There was no missing the distaste as Even spat out the last word. Isak knew what he meant, families where alpha lineage was strong genetically—so called pure lines. These families held an absurd amount of arrogance, as well as a need to maintain the bloodlines through carefully procured matches. It was probably one of the most absurd facets of their society to Isak. And Even came from one of those families? “They wanted more proud and pure children to be added to the family.”

“And you didn’t want that?”

There was a pause. “It’s not that I don’t  _ want  _ that, I’m just not like them. They knew it too, but there was always my older brother—he was a clone of my father, fucking everything that moved. So my parents weren’t worried until he died in a car wreck. They took two days,” he grunted a sardonic laugh, “ _ two whole entire days _ , before their mourning dulled enough to put the pressure on me.”

Isak looked away. He’d been staring at Even as he spoke and it felt intrusive. Now who was being rude? Especially given the topic of conversation. But he could hardly help it, the emotion displayed on Even’s face was a story on its own. The words themselves were painful: brother dead and a family that didn’t accept you, but there was more to come—Isak could taste it. At least  _ he’d _ had the protective support of his father. Who had Even had to help him?

“So you ran?”

“Not right away. They’d always been very careful about who we mixed with, in case we ended up mixing with people they didn’t want us to. So we were schooled at home, introduced to the people they wanted us to know. I didn’t have anyone to talk to that wouldn’t tell my parents, and no one would help me run away. After my brother died, it was just omegas I saw. That would be all I knew about them—that they were omegan. And all they did was peer at me and pretend to be what they thought I wanted. I’d never met one before and then every week another, and another, and another… all shoved under my nose to try and provoke me—in hope that I would turn out to be just like my family. Like I was just an animal.” Even stopped to let out a deep breath, the words had spilled from him in a vigorous flow. “I disappointed a lot of people,” he snickered again before taking another sip. 

“What they tried to do… it didn’t work?”

Even shook his head. “No.” He chewed on his lower lip. This felt like a delicate area—paper thin and sore. 

“What happened then?” Isak was sure his family, if they were as proud as they sounded, wouldn’t give up at that. 

Hanging his head, Even hesitated before going on. “I’m not normal. I don’t rut like I’m supposed to—or at all, unless I’m forced to. I  _ think, anyway _ .” Despite the venom in his voice, Even’s cheeks darkened with shame at the admission. “They found  _ that  _ out when they tried to  _ persuade  _ me by locking me away with some omega in heat—I don’t even knew what their name was. They thought it would make me rut. And it  _ did _ but not how they imagined; they wanted us to fuck and bond but I didn’t touch the omega. I  _ did  _ destroy every piece of furniture in that room before ripping the door off the hinges and almost killing one of the household staff—they tried to restrain me. I think I ruined alphas for that poor fucking omega.”

Isak could only hear his own heart beating fast in the small space they occupied, quiet lay heavily on them both—the radio had tuned out, the station no longer on air. He never would have guessed an alpha could suffer in ways he’d had to. It was assumed that alphas took their roles gladly, dominating and governing. And yet here Even was contradicting all of that. This wasn’t the first time Isak knew he was different in this way—it just seemed clearer now. 

Both of them had been manipulated and forced, their choices taken from them. The urge to reach out to Even and comfort him pulled strongly at Isak, almost impossible to ignore. But apprehension kept him still. Never before had Isak wanted to comfort an alpha.

But Even wasn’t just an alpha.  _ Even was Even _ .  

“So you left  _ then _ ?” His words were soft footsteps in a room full of broken photo frames, trying to dodge shards of glass memories. 

“I waited long enough to hear them discuss me,  _ and  _ the different therapies I might have,  _ and  _ the drugs that might help—without talking  _ to  _ me. They didn’t care how I felt, or that I might hurt someone again. So I left them, in the night. I’ve never spoken about it since. I’ve thought about them even less than that.” The sentence was punctuated by another large swig from the glass Even held, then he let out a low hiss as the strength of the liquor hit.  

Isak nodded. It wasn’t something you would want to speak about, but he doubted that Even had never thought of them. Those memories would hurt, it was a rejection from the few people who were supposed to embrace you and every facet, no matter how different. But it was hardly something you would be able to stop thinking about—all the what-ifs playing in your mind as well as the self blame.

“You’ve never spoken to anyone in—what has it been?—five years?” Even nodded. “Not even the town folk?

Even huffed a laugh. “They look at me like a lone wolf; an alpha, hidden away in the mountain. The best they could think is that I’m insane. I don’t want the shame of disappointing more people. Besides, this way they stay away; I like my space.” 

Isak chewed his lip. Many counter-arguments poured into his mind: that they had been within arms reach of each other for over a week and it didn’t seem to bother Even. In fact the incense was almost gone—none had been lit tonight, he sat closer, and they opened up more and more. But now wasn’t the time to disagree. Instead words jumped from his mouth that Isak had no control over. “You’re  _ not  _ a disappointment.” 

The hard look aimed at Isak would have scared him if he didn’t know Even so well by now. “You don’t know that.” 

“I know enough. You’re one of the most genuine people I’ve known. If people are looking for something other than Even they might disappoint themselves, but if they looked at who  _ Even  _ is, they can’t miss how  _ good  _ you are: kind, caring, and strong.”

The hard gaze that held him didn’t falter, but Even’s eyes softened before he shook his head. “I’m capable of hurting people.” 

“Who isn’t? You think if that stupid fuck of an alpha had tried to bond me I wouldn’t have done everything I could to maim him and get free?”

“I don’t doubt you would have.”

“There. It’s the exact same situation. So, if you’re bad then I’m bad too. And I’d have no regrets,” Isak exclaimed with an indignant snort, tilting his chin in the air at the very thought of someone forcing him to do what he did not want. 

Whatever he did, it brought the smile back to Even’s face. “I guess we’re both bad then.”

Isak nodded. “In the same boat, and we ended up in the same damn cabin. How’s that for fate?”

The smile faltered as Even dithered, mouth working before he dared say what he was thinking. “I wish you hadn’t had to come up here—to run away.” Suddenly, Even was solemn and intent on Isak. “Was your dad your guardian?” 

Blinking, Isak tried to find his footing. He hadn’t expected the question to hit quite so hard:  _ had  _ his dad  _ been  _ his guardian. “Yes,” he said simply, voice weak and brittle like an egg shell. 

Sorrow filled Even’s eyes, and his next question was asked softly— _ tenderly _ . “This was recent?”

Isak nodded again. “It’s not even been two months. I didn’t have any time—they took me. I couldn’t say goodbye then. I didn’t have  _ time _ , and, so—” Isak wasn’t sure what happened after the  _ so _ . Everything had been repressed, he’d focussed all his energy on freedom. This was the first time he’d spoken about it, the first time he’d been able to feel over it. His chin dropped to his chest; words, thoughts, and emotions were spinning out of control. 

Then and there, Even proved he was braver than Isak. Suddenly there was warmth, and then there was security. Even hadn’t fought the urge to comfort, he’d crossed the space between them to wrap himself around Isak, and now Isak’s face was buried in soft cream wool as fingers smoothed through his hair. 

“It’s OK. I’m sorry,” Even repeated those two statements over and over into the crown of Isak’s head as his jumper was slowly saturated with tears. Ordinarily those notions would be idiotic, they would mean nothing. What could those sentiments do for Isak? But somehow, the way that Even held the words in his mouth, how the sounds vibrated through his body, the way he caressed them before passing them to Isak, carried so much care; a genuine sorrow for what Isak felt, and an authentic need to soothe. 

Isak’s fingers tightened in the wool he clutched to. The scent on his borrowed scarf had faded, but here he could breathe Even in. There was that dangerous anticipation dancing in his gut again, but he ignored it because this earthiness grounded him.

He could feel, and he was safe to feel what he felt. 

Waves of calm reached him once the maelstrom of tears died down, and Isak listened to the thud of Even’s heart—unwilling to move. This moment was important for an intangible reason, and if he moved, if he disrupted it, he might not find his way back here. And he was scared that if he looked at Even something might have changed. What if Isak was acting too much like an omega right now? Showing so much weakness. Would Even see him differently?

Swallowing, Isak tilted his chin up, peering into a deep sea of blue that only held concern. There was a small smile on Even’s lips, his head shook gently as if he knew what Isak was worrying over. A thumb brushed a tear from Isak’s cheek. “It’s OK,” he said once more. Opening his mouth, Even looked about to say more but Isak was robbed of whatever words were forming.

There was a heavy thud before the door crashed open. Isak jolted upright as Even sprung to his feet, whirling around to face the intruder. In a split second he was ready to lunge across the room, snarl on his face. Isak only glimpsed the third bewildered set of eyes a slender moment before Even made his move.

“ _ Stop _ !” he yelled, gaining the attention of both men in the room. 

Even stalled, glancing at the newcomer and then back at Isak, but his alert demeanor didn’t budge. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, he held Even’s eyes. Isak tried to swallow the regret that stung at their moment being intruded upon, but it stuck in his throat. There were things unsaid. Could they get back there somehow? Clearing his throat, Isak clarified his order. “This is Eskild.” They’d spoken enough for the name to be explanation on its own, and it seemed that was the case when Even returned the nod. 

A muffled sound came from Eskild before he decided to wait until he’d removed the scarves wound around his neck and face. He was gazing around the cabin as Even edged closer, closing the door on the frigid air that seeped in. “What happened to this place. And who are  _ you _ ?” His eyes fell on Even with the last word, then Eskild continued to study him openly from head to foot. 

“This is Even—he’s my…  _ friend _ .” Was that what they were? Or just acquaintances? Isak had opened up to Even more than he had with anyone, yet friend didn’t seem an accurate description. It was more complex than that. “He did all this,” Isak gestured around the cabin, too much love and hard work had been poured into this home to pick out specific improvements. 

Eskild turned to Even. “ _ You did? _ Since when? The last time I saw this place it was barely four walls and a ceiling.”

“I’ve been here almost five years now,” Even stated, stalking back to his armchair but lingering at its back, unsure now what to do. His face was impassive, Isak hadn’t seen him like that for days. He was stealing himself for whatever would come his way, ready to be cast out from the one place he called home. 

But Eskild was oblivious to the discomfort in Even as he peered into the kitchen area with wonder. “You did good. There’s heating? And gas?  _ And water?” _

Even nodded. “I will leave, I know this isn’t my—” but he cut off when Eskild waved a hand dismissively.

“It seems you were here when someone needed to be here for him.” Eskild raised a hand in Isak’s direction. “You’ve put more work into this place than anyone alive. I’m glad you were here. And here you will stay. As long as you don’t mind Isak staying with you.” He grinned at them both, his eyes moving back and forth between Isak and Even before the grin bordered on a smirk. “So, you’re friends, did you say?”

Isak flushed. “It’s just been us, for a week now,” he said in defence. But it only made Eskild’s eyes dance with amusement.  

“Cosy.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve been working. Doing…  _ stuff _ .” Isak’s mind was drawing blanks. Trying to explain how the past few days had gone, and how he could call this person a friend already, was failing him. 

“I bet. Can I sit?” he asked Even. 

Shrugging, Even looked uncomfortable that Eskild would ask, considering the situation. “Of course.”

Moving to the sofa, Eskild eased down with a sigh. It was only in that moment that it dawned on Isak; his best friend was here. Moving quickly, he found himself clinging to Eskild in a zealous hug. “You’re here,” he murmured. Irritation at the intrusion had leached away, allowing gratitude to take its place. Why should he feel irritated? “I thought you’d text?” Isak pulled away from his friend, whose mouth was drawn in a hard line of displeasure as he deliberated answering the question. 

“I didn’t want to risk it. They aren’t giving up on finding you, and I’m suspect number one.”

Isak’s face dropped. “They’re still looking for me?”

The grunt he got in return was confirmation enough. “You know alphas; thick skulled and stubborn.”

“ _ Some _ alphas. Not all,” Isak corrected automatically. He wasn’t at all shocked when a bewildered expression was aimed at him. Then Eskild glanced over at Even, eyes widening as if a silent answer had been whispered in his ear to a question that hadn’t been voiced. What had he figured out?

“Of course not  _ all _ ,” Eskild finally agreed in a soft voice. “I shouldn’t have generalised.”

Even was furiously trying to busy himself with arranging the books on the mantelpiece, then repositioning the pan with the chestnut shells twice, before dancing from one foot to the next. All too aware that a focus had shifted to him. Raking a hand through his hair it appeared he’d found something to say. Isak would guess that whatever it was, he would find a way to excuse himself.

“You’ll stay the night? You can’t go back out there now, it’s dark and the weather…” he trailed off, and Eskild nodded. “Good, you can sleep up there,” he pointed towards the loft bed, “I’ll make it ready. And get you something to eat; you must be hungry.  _ Tea _ . I’ll make tea too.” By this point, Even was making a list to himself aloud before he stalked into the kitchen. The tap was turned on. 

“He’s a little…  _ odd _ ,” Eskild said quietly.

Blinking, Isak brought his attention back to his friend. “He’s not used to people. And I like that he’s odd.” His jaw firmed without him realising it. He was defensive, despite Eskild not really saying anything that wasn’t plainly true. 

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Eskild added, pursing his lips. “He’s not used to people, but he’s getting used to you. And you’re getting used to him, despite the fact he’s an alpha.” 

Frowning, Isak muttered a yes, not sure why Eskild sounded so surprised and amused by the statement. “Like I said, not all alphas are the same. Sometimes people just get on,” he shrugged. It made sense to him anyway, it wasn’t a complicated scenario. “We have things in common. And he’s a good listener.” 

Isak licked his lips, he could still taste the whiskey. Their glasses sat side by side on the hearthstone, drabs of the amber left inside that glimmered spritely in the light of the fire. That moment seemed so far away now, whatever it was might now be lost. Morosity filled him—quick and without warning—to the point tears threatened again. 

“Jesus, Isak. That’s a good thing. Why do you look so sad? Have you been crying?” He shifted closer, laying a palm on Isak’s shoulder in reassurance. 

“ _ What _ ? Oh, a bit—not really—kinda. We were talking before you got here. About  _ stuff _ .” 

“ _ Stuff _ ,” Eskild repeated with a huffed laugh. 

Isak rolled his eyes. “About families _ —our  _ families.”

“That’s good. You talked about your dad?” Eskild’s words were delicate, but he sounded encouraged that Isak was opening up. 

“Yeah, for a bit.” It was less talking about and more crying over, but one wasn’t necessarily better than the other. It felt like something had lifted from Isak. 

Even stumbled out of the kitchen area, hands full of fresh bedding—where it had been procured from, Isak had no idea. “I’ll just—” he muttered into the fleece. “I’ll put these up there.” He’d already reached the ladder by the time the statement was made, and began to climb expertly with just one hand. Not a blanket or pillow was dropped. “The food won’t be long. It’s just warming. Help yourself to the whiskey.” 

“Thank you,” Eskild replied, grinning at the antics of the new person he was learning as they both watched Even’s long legs disappear into the loft space. “He’s a good host,” he murmured quietly before surveying Isak with concern. “How have  _ you  _ been?”

Bobbing his head, Isak was eager to reassure of his well being. “Good, all good— well, not at first. My heat hit when I got to the mountain and I managed to get most of the way. I don’t know what happened—I must have blacked out—but then Even found me in the snow. Or the wolves did. Even took me back here and made sure I was OK. Then the heat just… disappeared,” he tapered off, the deluge of words coming to a stumbling halt. The whites of Eskild’s eyes had grown with every word.

“Wolves?  _ Your heat? _ ” Discreetly, Eskild’s gaze dropped to Isak’s neck before meeting his eyes again. He couldn’t help but reach up, placing a palm over his gland protectively, head shaking gently.

“No, he’s not like that.” This time Isak knew what question had been asked, his reply was barely audible but Eskild seemed to ease with the assurance. But then he hesitated before responding, picking his words carefully. 

“I’ve heard that sometimes, when an omega find someone that…  _ complements  _ them, it can help with the heats. Regulate them, if it’s not a good time.” 

“ _ Complements them _ ?” 

“You know, a good fit.” It was stated with a shrug, assuming that Isak would know what he meant.

“So, like a good friend?”

Eskild stared at him blankly for a moment, as though Isak had lost his last brain cell. “Yes, a  _ good friend _ , Isak, that’s  _ exactly  _ what it means.” 

Before Eskild’s words—laced with sarcasm—could be questioned, the rungs of the ladder creaked, announcing Even’s reappearance. The kettle began to scream once he reached the bottom rung. “Tea,” he stated, once both feet were on the floor—to no-one in particular. 

This time, Eskild stifled a laugh, though Even wasn’t aware of it. Isak put an end to it with his elbow, straight into his friends ribs. His mirth was interrupted by a grunt. “What was that for?” he hissed once Even was hidden away in the kitchen. 

“Stop making fun of him.”

“I’m not,” Eskild said, face sincere. “He’s really awkward. And it's cute.”

“ _ Cute _ ?”

“Yeah.”

Isak snorted. “You’re the  _ odd  _ one.” Cute? He thought Even was cute? Why didn’t Isak like that? “Stop… stop talking about him.” There. That was fair. It was rude to talk about someone who was literally within earshot of them. 

But Eskild just looked amused. “ _ Stop this, stop that _ . Christ, I’ll leave  _ your  _ Even alone.”

Isak spluttered in indignation. Even wasn’t  _ his _ , that was ridiculous. And he was just about to tell his friend exactly  _ that  _ when Even reappeared carrying a large tray, food and tea crammed on it.  

He’d have to bring it up later. 

* * *

Even sat unmoving in his chair, but—in his mind—he was still balanced on the balls of his feet, waiting to run. It was just him and the fire, the smell of chestnuts, tea, and whiskey still lingered, and two bodies lay in slumber around him. Eskild was in the loft. He snored apparently, and not in the gentle way Isak did. Isak was curled in mountains of blankets in front of the fire. He’d been the first to fall asleep, but Eskild hadn’t been far behind after his long journey from the town to the cabin. 

It  _ had  _ been pleasant, Even admitted, once he’d found his feet and stopped flailing. Most of the conversations he simply listened to; the back and forth between Isak and Eskild was entertaining. And Isak would find ways to bring him in to their banter. That was considerate. Perhaps even sweet. 

Yet Even couldn’t help the unease that seemed to cover his skin, like oil on water. So many years had passed, time and memories convincing him that he was made to be alone, that this was the only way not to hurt or disappoint. 

If he grew attached and inevitably fucked up… 

But they were  _ supposed  _ to part ways. That had always been the crux of their situation, they were thrust together now but that would only last so long. And he shouldn’t feel any way over that other than acceptance. But he did. He wanted the company.   

His eyes flitted to the door for the tenth time in as many minutes, the soles of his feet itched. He  _ should  _ run because this was dangerous territory. If he slipped away now, Isak would still thrive up here, and Eskild would know he was safe.  _ Even  _ would know he was safe. Everything would carry on the same without him, and Isak would be better for it. 

Even closed his eyes to that painful bleak thought.

He didn’t want to go. 

In the abyss behind his eyelids, he didn’t see ghosts from the past—not today. Today he saw a very cross looking Isak, scowling at him because he hadn’t left a note. He saw a competent Isak shelling chestnuts with pink cheeks simply because Even was watching him. He saw an indignant Isak with his chin tilted in the air in defiance of a mere thought that someone would make him do what he didn’t want to do. And then he saw a vulnerable Isak, eyes full of tears, and open to Even about a pain he tried to hide from the world. 

He  _ saw  _ Isak. And Isak was beautiful—every single angle. 

The notion crashed against the wall constructed between conscious and subconscious thought, destroying it entirely. He felt  _ things  _ that he shouldn’t. Fingers grasped the armrests so tightly the wood creaked and dread gripped his stomach in an icy vice. 

He felt  _ things _ for Isak.

That revelation had Even on his feet, his eyes still locked on the door, ready to bolt without a trace again. He had to leave, for Isak’s sake.

Before he’d taken one full step, Even heard Isak shift in discomfort. Whirling around, his eyes sought the mound before the low fire—it was just embers now. He made out Isak’s profile before his mouth opened, gasping for air like he’d been holding his breath underwater for an hour. His legs kicked at the covers, twisting in what looked like pain.

In a heartbeat he was on his knees, by Isak’s side, running a palm over his forehead. It wasn’t a fever. “Isak?” he said softly.

The only response was a soft whimper as Isak turned into his touch. He didn’t stir but his fingers latched onto Even like he was driftwood. Even had no choice but to sink down next to him, letting Isak be comforted by closeness. 

And that closeness brought warmth and scent. This wasn’t like how he’d held Isak earlier in comfort. This time Isak’s body wound its way around his, his heartbeat sent Even’s blood flow off rhythm, and his breath came in stops and starts.

_ He shouldn’t do this. He should go.  _

Even tried to ease away. If he managed it, Isak would be none the wiser. Even needed that ignorance because he was ashamed of how his body reacted. His skin grew tight, and self restraint clung desperately to the overwhelming urge that almost swept Even away, to put his nose to Isak’s throat and breathe him in. It was delicate and lush—his scent, the first spring rains, but it filled Even like honey wine. 

A few inches of space was gained between them before Isak stirred again, closing the gap again. And as he pulled close his lips parted, murmuring Even’s name. 

Even closed his eyes and gave in. He would stay. There wasn’t any place he could go when Isak needed him this way. But he lay still. Even was sure his statue-like state had less to do with his self control and more with the fact he was utterly overwhelmed: thoughts, emotions, memories, dreams, washed over him like a tidal wave. 

This was too much and not nearly enough.

All he could do was breathe in time with Isak. His fingers were the only part of him that dared move. Palm pressed to Isak’s back, they’d found a strip of bare skin and they skated over the territory they wanted so badly to claim. 

* * *

_ The world was water.  _

_ Isak rolled in the surf. Currents pushed him down. It became inky black, bled into him, ivory fingers tugged at his feet. They pulled him down, wanting to consume him. _

_ A wave took him. Lifted him up. It was warm. Light percolated through the substance that surrounded him, heaving him to the surface. Air filled his lungs, he could taste the wave.  _

_ Mulled wine and earth.  _

_ His body relaxed. The sun was on him. But the wave ebbed away. Those fingers searched for him, bony and cruel in their greed. He twisted, searching for the wave. He didn't want that darkness in his veins, filling his lungs.  _

_ Warmth took him. Light took him. Strength took him. One solid mass around his middle. That solidity glanced against his skin, one stray tendril kissing the tip of a vertebra. Heat raced up his spine.  _

_ Isak gasped. Sweet air. Deep air. Heavy spices that soothed his chest. Earth that encompassed him. _

* * *

The world was a blur. 

Isak tried to focus, eyes blinking to clear them. There was a pale orange that danced across pitch black. It had just been a dream. He was safe in the cabin. 

But the tendril was still there. Isak froze. His dream had blended into reality, that bar of strength remained around his middle. It wasn't a wave. 

One minute his body was still, the next his heart hammered so furiously against his chest he thought it might wake Eskild. 

_ Please don't let it wake him…  _

How had this occurred? How had they gotten like this? 

Isak dared to glance up, but that proved useless. The fire was at Even's back, his face left dark and unreadable. Closing his eyes, Isak tried to calm his body. But heat had already flooded him. That tendril was a finger, carelessly soothing skin that had never been touched. Or maybe it had, but in this moment Isak had never known contact. It felt new. It was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

Which finger was it? The index? His thumb?

Somewhere in the panic of his reactions, Isak noticed Even's breaths were shallow. Not the deep, thorough tide of sleep. 

His lips parted and air rushed out of him, giving away his consciousness. “ _ Are you awake? _ ” His words were as quiet as a feather, glancing over silk. Maybe they should pretend. Maybe he should try and sleep. 

Even swallowed. The shallow inhale he took sounded pained. “ _ Yes _ ,” came the reply. It was trepidacious, unsure what he should be doing and afraid that he couldn't sleep, worrying that this wasn't the right thing. Isak could taste it all in one short word. Isak heard his tongue run over his lips, but for all his hesitancy his arm still held Isak fast. “You were having a nightmare,” his voice was low. Desperation clawed up his throat, needing to find stability or control. “You were only still when I touched you. So I thought…” there was another tortuous breath taken. The words were being scored into Isak’s flesh despite how delicate Even’s tone was. “I thought this would be OK.” Regret loomed; evidently assuming this wasn't the right thing to do, but realising far too late. “Sorry,” he added, softly enough that Isak would have missed it had his heart decided to thud at the same time. 

Weight shifted back, easing from Isak. Before any fluent thoughts made themselves known, Isak’s hand moved, running over the cotton of Even's night clothes until the smooth of his skin was beneath his fingertips. And Even froze like it was a command. 

Isak’s breaths were shallow, light pants, fretting in anticipation of this intimacy and how wrong or right it could be. Palm coming to rest on Even's cheek, his thumb ran over stubble. Isak tried to speak. It took three attempts before words broke free. “Don't go.” There was a pause; stalemate. Perhaps Even couldn't read Isak how Isak could read him in this moment. “ _ Please _ ,” he added, the word rushing out of him to emphasize this urgent need that had only this instant made itself known to Isak. No, the need had been there, slowly cultivated between them, but neither had realised until now.

How had he not seen this coming? 

“I don't know what I'm doing.” The admission was panicked. This was probably terrifying for Even, confronted by emotions and needs he thought he was incapable of, from what he’d spoken of earlier. Isak had never experienced this desire before, but he'd never ruled it out. It had just seemed unlikely. 

Yet here they were… 

Even’s hand belied his words as it made a slow path up Isak's back, dragging his shirt with it. The cool night air danced over his skin, but he was already covered in gooseflesh and it wasn't from the cold. 

Fingertips pushed into Even's long soft hair, taking advantage of where they could roam while Isak still cradled his face. “What do you want to do?” Isak whispered. 

Even’s reply fell from his lips. “I want to stay close to you.” 

Isak tried to nod in agreement but his body was frozen. “I want you close.” He wanted more than closeness. The only thing he could focus on was Even's skin, and how it would feel pressed to his; weight on top of him, breath and body merging together, possessing each other. 

There was another impasse. Isak reclining back on the makeshift bed looking up at Even, fingers tangling in his hair. And Even was on one elbow, lying on his side, maintaining his delicate worry over making any move. Isak could see his face now, and there was fear there. He knew that fear was entirely over hurting Isak in some way. The press of his fingers put light pressure on Even's nape, urging him closer with gentle persuasion. When Even didn't give way, he relented. “But you don't have to—”

His words cut off as Even hushed him before closing the distance between them. His arms wove their tight grip around Isak once more while his nose pushed against Isak's throat. Both filling their lungs of the other, Isak lost focus on what exactly Even was doing as the scent overwhelmed him. This close, and with the heat of Even's flesh against him, Isak wanted nothing more than to put his mouth on him. 

That notion evaporated as he was beat. Even’s lips pushed against his throat, and Isak let his head fall back to the pillow, bearing himself. Soft kisses traced a path across his collarbone and carefully around the scent gland that lay just beneath Isak’s jaw. Haggard breaths carried with them suppressed moans. Then Even followed the line of Isak’s his jaw before lips ghosted at the corner of his mouth, laying open in anticipation. He dithered there, tip of his nose sliding against Isak’s. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Isak muttered, harassed and desperate because that's exactly what he was. 

Even didn’t let him beg. The soft and warm of his mouth finally landed on Isak’s, one firm lingering kiss. Isak’s fingers tightened their grip, unwilling to let Even go, not until this whirlwind subsided. A deep breath was drawn before he returned, lips parting so Isak could taste him. His jaw relaxed, and Even pushed into his mouth, tongues feeling each other out. And the only feeling Isak comprehended when he felt the sharpness of Even's prominent incisors was anticipation. There was no danger in reach of any of his senses. 

Instinctively, he gave as weight shifted closer and Even came to rest on him. Isak embraced him, pulling their bodies harder together, and securing him in place with his legs, coiling like vines around a tree. When Even shivered as fingers pushed their way beneath his shirt, it only indulged Isak's frenzy. 

The dark space housed only their laboured breaths, barely hidden by the crackling fire, and there was simply the sensation of skin becoming inflamed with urgency. The kisses were rough and hungry, but they fed Isak. He needed more. His palms pushed lower, flowing down Even's back and pushing beneath his shorts. His lungs and body stuttered as Isak gripped onto his ass. 

“We shouldn't—” 

“I know,” Isak replied. It was hardly a well thought out decision. But logic was lacking. 

At odds with his words, Even’s hand rested on Isak's waist and thumbed at the waistband of his shorts. It was difficult for Isak to think coherently, but he didn't need to think when that thumb dared to push beneath the material. His hips rolled eagerly, pressure mounting when he discovered how turned on Even was. At least Isak wasn't alone in his eagerness, cock hard and slick dampening his shorts. If they hadn't hit a point of no return, they would soon. 

“But I want to,” Even admitted. It sounded tortured, unsure that was the right thing to feel, say, or do. But there was surprise there too, awe at these emotions. 

“Me too—I want  _ you _ .” Isak was rapid in the reply, unwilling to let the momentum die. Even lifted his head and, despite the dark, Isak knew he was looking towards the loft. “He sleeps like the dead.” Isak intended to add some context, like the times Eskild babysat, crashing on the couch while Isak snuck into the kitchen to steal biscuits. It hardly seemed the time to share memories. Besides, Isak was preoccupied by the fact he'd never needed an alpha, nor wanted one like this. There’d never been an attraction towards, what he'd been told, was the complimentary sex. Yet, here he was, eager to learn how different  _ this  _ would feel. It was already unknown territory; he'd never felt this in sync. But that want and those feelings weren't because Even was an alpha. It was because Even was  _ Even _ . 

“ _ Fuck me _ .” It was a harsh demanding whisper, but it seemed to work. No sooner had he spoken it, Even’s mouth was on him again. Isak felt as famished as Even seemed to be, judging by the way kisses were pushed against any skin he could find. But he held no complaints, not even for the roughness of the stubble that grazed his chin and neck. 

Isak assumed that he was more practised than Even in physical intimacy. But his own experiences were nothing to compare against this flash flood. He would relish in the fact that he’d caused these reactions in an alpha so mysteriously untouched in this instinctual way; that Isak had been the one to arouse Even’s dormant passions. He should feel smug, but the only thing he could feel was desperation. That desperation drove his hands over Even’s skin, running over firm muscles. He was strong, sleek, firm… he felt perfect to Isak. 

Just as furiously as they kissed, hands moved with purpose. Isak’s shorts were dragged down his hips, and he helped, only bothering to pull one leg free. Even was as careless, just managing to push his own shorts down his thighs. Isak hissed into his mouth when their bodies met again. He could feel Even, between his thighs, the firm head of his cock heavy against Isak.

There was no pretence when Even’s hand pushed between them, or hesitation when he guided himself, sliding against skin already wet. Isak anticipated some tease, but being familiar with the facets of Even’s personality already he should have known better. Once he’d committed to something, he saw it through. Hips bearing down, Even thrust into Isak, causing him to freeze in shock, a cry barely restrained in his throat. Submission followed quickly as air rushed out of him, body softening as Even ebbed away before surging forward again. This time, Isak’s fingers latched onto flesh, urging him on. Even began to move relentlessly.

Isak had fucked before, and he’d been fucked before. The experiences had been enjoyable, but the chase always seemed more fulfilling than the end point. There was always an element of disappointment when he was done, despite his partners usually being eager to keep Isak’s interest. After that point, there was no interest on Isak’s part. He hadn’t even acknowledged there was a chase between him and Even. In fact, he was sure there hadn’t been one at all. They’d stumbled into this, completely unintended. Now Even’s hands were all over him, gripping at his shoulder or thigh, body pushing against Isak, demanding space to be made for him, desirous to take as much of Isak as he could. 

Yet somehow this wasn’t as surprising as it should be. 

And  _ this  _ was incomparable to past trysts—physically. There had been pleasure before, but now his entire body seemed to be involved in what they were doing. His core clenched tight, and where his body wrapped around Even’s cock the muscles undulated, sending ripples of euphoria through his body, and the waves only heightened the more Even thrust into him. 

By the time their bodies were flush—Isak’s knee pushed high by a large and firm hand—all he could do was breathe. Jaw sagging, shallow pants stuttered from his body as he clung to the body that overran him. His cock was trapped between them and Isak had never been so achingly hard. Cum leaked onto his stomach, adding to the sweat already layered between them, seeping into the material of the clothes they still wore. It was a mess but Isak wanted nothing more, nothing less. Noises were quelled in his throat as Isak bit down on his lip, trying to stay quiet but yearning to let his satisfaction free in whatever form it decided to take. Right now it felt as though his throat should be hoarse from crying out. 

The wind picked up outside, shaking the cabin, as if it was aiding in their cover. Isak took the opportunity to let out a whimper because Even was as close as he could be without the threat of knotting Isak. But Isak wanted all there was to take. The idea of knotting had seemed so base, but right now Isak needed to be pushed to his limits, and experience everything with Even. He tried to ask—fuck Isak could have  _ begged  _ for it—but he couldn’t make his tongue work. 

Even’s mouth hovered over his, knees framed his hips and his body curved up, tilted so he was as open as possible to Even’s deliberate thrusts, each punctuated with a dull, wet slap of skin. Isak had never produced this much cum and slick before, if he had room for any other emotions he probably would have felt embarrassed. But it didn’t bother Even. 

The rough and hasty motions were counteracted by fingertips that glanced over Isak’s skin tenderly, smoothing through his hair, tracing his ear, glancing over his nipples, counting his ribs. Even’s was trying to memorise him. Isak’s hands moved like his, running up his sweat dampened back, tracing his spine to the nape of his neck, before plunging back down to grab his ass. The grunt that Even released was entirely satisfying. 

He wanted to gloat, he wanted to push Even on to his back and take control, he wanted to take every inch of Even for himself. But there was a luxury in this: simple, honest, and primal. Instead of smirking, Isak whimpered pathetically when Even slowed, his lips brushing against Isak’s when he spoke.

“I’m gonna come.” The whisper was hoarse. It sounded like an apology.

Isak’s fingers grasped as savagely to hair as his thighs gripped to Even’s body. His mind had started to lighten, the room beginning to spin as the pleasure heightened; Isak could almost taste the heat haze. There was no way they were stopping now. “ _ Don’t you fucking dare stop _ .” The reply was uttered on a low groan. It earned Isak a short snort of laughter before lips found his. The kiss was soft and languid, a deception before Even’s hips rolled hard against him, he stole the moan that Isak didn’t manage to repress, taking it with the kiss. 

But his mouth broke away from Isak to gasp as his stuttered thrusts picked up momentum again. Isak’s nails dug into his back, raking across skin, feeling Even’s climax building in his staggered motions and breathing. Isak felt his lips pull up in a smirk, satisfaction spread through him before he’d even come. The smugness lasted a heartbeat as Even dropped to Isak’s neck, a sloppy kiss glancing over his skin and the tip of one incisor scraped slowly over his scent gland. 

His gland that was always hidden around alphas, that very spot that he didn’t let anyone near. And here Even was, the very teeth made to mark, subconsciously teasing—but no more. Isak knew he’d never bite him. 

Isak  _ trusted _ him. 

Eyes shooting wide open, Isak managed to mute the cry that leapt from his lungs against Even’s throat. But the groan was drawn out, his body reverberating as he came, heat painting his stomach. Every muscle seemed to constrict around Even, encompassing him. Isak only realised his teeth had sunk into Even’s neck when a cuss word was hissed into his ear, just before Even’s movements faltered, his own fingers sinking into Isak as he came.

There was no sudden finish, it ebbed and flowed, their bodies rocked as the aftershocks rippled through them both, mouths finding each other for a moment before they needed to simply breathe and moan. 

Then there was stillness. 

Isak’s chest heaved as he gazed up at Even, and Even stared right back. But on his face was that unreadable expression, too much was playing out behind his eyes already. His lips moved but nothing came, and all Isak could hear was an apology forming. 

“ _ Don’t _ ,” he urged softly before Even could say it. He wasn’t entirely sure what there was to apologise for but he just knew it was coming.

Blue eyes travelled over his features before he licked his lips. “It’s just—”

“Don’t say sorry.”

Finally Even nodded. “What do you want?”  

Isak huffed a laugh. That was a broad question but one he was sure he could answer with one word already:  _ you _ . But Isak wasn’t ready to say that yet. “Just kiss me.”

There was another hesitant moment, Even simply observing him, awe and fear in his eyes in equal measures. Then he nodded, closing the distance between them. His kisses were tender and slow, they lingered and flowed into the next, honouring the shape of Isak’s mouth. 

They were bittersweet apologies on their own. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The impasse stretched out so long that Even dared to turn and open his eyes, in fear that somehow Isak had perhaps drowned or dissolved in the tub. 
> 
> But Isak was very much alive. His eyes were wide saucers overflowing with open fury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter.
> 
> I have been super busy and stressed, and this isn't edited to my normal standard, but I just wanted to be putting out something. Because I need to be writing and just getting shit out.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy <3
> 
> Love, Becs

###  Chapter Five

Isak’s fingers crept over the blankets, turning so the fire was at his back… and Even should be the other side. Arm stretched out, his fingers found nothing. Eyes closed, he counted to ten before he roused fully. Despite reaching ten in a paced rhythm, the nerves hadn’t quieted. When he opened his eyes, Isak found what he expected.

He was alone. 

Two lit lamps and a tended fire greeted him when he finally opened his eyes. So Even had been around long enough to see to the cabin but hadn’t been willing to wait for Isak to wake. There was a sense, something that tugged at his gut, that told him Even wasn’t nearby. Where  _ exactly  _ he was happened to be another matter entirely. 

Propping his back against the foot of the armchair, Isak scrubbed at his face before staring into the low flames. If he was fair, it was understandable to freak out, given both of their experiences. But he couldn’t quite shake the sting of hurt. He’d never wanted to wake up to someone before. His body ached where Even had touched, it made the absence even more profound. They should talk, ignoring each other wasn’t going to help anyone. 

Last night had been impulsive and shocking. But now, with hindsight, it seemed the moment had cultivated naturally between them, they were just too short sighted to anticipate it. Isak wasn’t too stubborn to admit, to himself at least, that he wanted more. Every sense and emotion that he felt here, with Even, were ones that he hadn’t imagined experiencing. He felt secure enough to be open,  _ and  _ submit—that was entirely new and daunting, yet he wasn’t about to run away.

The thought had Isak sitting forward, scowling at the smoke blackened chimney flue. Would Even run away? Before the unwelcome notion had him on his feet, looking to find more than his sleeping clothes, before he made off after Even, a door opening stole his attention. Not the front door, the bathroom. 

“Morning, Isak.” Eskild’s voice was grainy, a towel slung over one shoulder. He hadn’t been awake longer than Isak, but he was already washed and dressed.

Guilt hit quickly. Isak had forgotten that anyone else existed in the world, let alone his best friend staying the night. 

“Morning. Sorry,” he mumbled, confused himself at the apology. 

There was a pause before Eskild decided to join him, taking a seat on the sofa to his left. “I was going to head back down to the town, wait for your suppressants to come in. But it looks like you need some company.” 

Isak frowned. “I thought you said it wouldn’t be ready for a few days?” One of the things Eskild had done before coming this way was order in suppressants at the chemist in town. Again, going above and beyond the call of friendship, and yet— _ again _ —Isak was confused that he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel. At one point suppressants had been his only focus. Did he need them now? Did he  _ want  _ them? 

“Yeah,” Eskild sighed, before hesitating over his words. “Not until the end of the week, but the pharmacist was hot and a flirt.” He pursed his lips before adding more and Isak waited; it was hardly a good enough excuse to make the journey yet again and hang around a small fishing town for a few long days. “Plus I don’t much like playing the third wheel.”  

Yesterday Isak could have taken offense and challenged Eskild. Yesterday he almost had when his friend had referred to their host as  _ his Even _ . But now? “It’s not like that,” Isak offered quietly. 

“I’m not saying it’s like anything, just that you should probably have some time. Alone.” Isak looked away, not sure how to answer when Even had already deserted him first chance he had. It was Eskild’s turn to frown. “Or not? I’m usually good at reading situations, but I could be wrong—” His words came to a halt as Isak shook his head. 

“Not wrong. He's just gone." 

"Didn't you say that's what he does? Go first thing, doing…  _ stuff?"  _

Isak firmed his jaw. That was right, but surely this morning would be different. It  _ should  _ be different. It had to be, that's why he was sure Even was currently scrambling up or down the nearest mountainside, to get away from an omega. 

A soft noise of understanding pulled at Isak's attention. Eskild was nodding to himself. " _ What _ ?" he asked in an accusatory manner. 

A grin-grimace hybrid was offered in reply. "While I was asleep? Isak?  _ Really _ ?" 

Jaw dropping, Isak worked his tongue fruitless while his cheeks flushed. There was no point in denying now. "It wasn't planned, I swear. I had a nightmare, and he was there. And then—" he shrugged, blinking away. 

"You couldn't wait?" 

Isak shrugged sheepishly. "It just…  _ happened _ ." 

Eskild let out a sigh that was chased by a snicker. "I'm  _ definitely _ heading down to find that piece of ass in a lab coat now. I need a palate cleanser. Or a whole body cleanse. I wonder if he has anything for that…" he trailed off, amused by his own thoughts. Isak was left grappling at what he wanted. Did he want Eskild to stay? If Even didn't come back, it would be a lonely few days. And if he did come back, did Isak trust himself? This was entirely new. His palms were damp. 

"Do you have to go? Even might not come back at all," he said with a weak laugh. Trying to disguise his honest worry under a bad joke.  

Eskild studied him for a long moment before he spoke. "Is that what you're worrying over?" 

Isak snorted. "I'm  _ not _ worried." 

"Well," Eskild stated indifferently. "If you were I could tell you that would be a stupid thing to do. He's not going anywhere. But then, you're not stupid, are you."

The statement put Isak in a predicament. If he probed Eskild's knowledge any further, he'd answer the last question in a way he wasn't willing too. But his friend was wise in this department, it would be foolish not to ask. "How can you be so sure?" 

“Because,” he let out a sigh, sinking back against the sofa, eyes cast to the ceiling as he thought. “You know how people talk about your parents? That they just were in sync?” Isak was nodding. It was something he’d hear from anyone that knew them. Isak had only photos to go from. “Some people just fit. I’ve only been around you both for an evening but I can see that much. I don’t think he’d want to escape that.”

Was Eskild saying that he and Even were like that? But that couldn’t be. “But my mum was beta. It can’t be the same.”

A snort of derision came before Eskild’s reply. “You think chemistry is exclusive to alphas and omegas?”

“No, I didn’t mean that. But wouldn’t this just be… hormones and nothing more? It couldn’t be the same for my parents.” His dad was alpha. They wouldn’t experience the same instincts as an alpha and omega. 

The gaze that held him turned from scathing to bemused. “Isak, there is more to connections than instincts. This isn’t hormone driven, this isn’t something being controlled by a force of nature. This is you finding someone that you—” Eskild hesitated, “that you just sync with; omega, alpha, beta—it doesn’t matter what you are. There is something special there, a bond that isn’t made through biting.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Although the biting is fun…” The sentiment was added before Eskild drifted off in his own imagination. 

Isak’s mouth was open. So, they had a connection that wasn’t forced by what they were? That had to be the case, after what he knew of Even’s reactions to omegas generally. It must be who he is that he wants, not what he is. And for himself? Isak had always been repulsed by the idea of domination, but Even didn’t want to dominate anyone. When that was added to the revelation discovered last night, that he trusted Even, it was clear that this was bigger than instincts. Isak was sure there was a bond already, the way he could feel Even’s presence was utterly unique. Eskild was right. But maybe Even could only see him as an omega now, after what they’d done. The tough thing was he couldn't tell Eskild about Even’s issues, that was personal, there was no discussing the complexities of this situation further. He would have to hope that his friend was right. 

“Wait, biting is  _ fun _ ?” 

Eskild grinned. “Just because I have no glands doesn’t mean I don’t like to be bitten. Or to bite.” Isak opened his mouth to tell his friend that there was no need for any more details, but Eskild rode right over him. “Some alphas like being bitten. You know there are cultures where omegas and alphas claim each other? Alphas glands work just like yours, just smaller, and you don’t have those teeny fangs for nothing. I think that’s probably the most natural way… an  _ equal  _ bond.” 

Unknowingly, Isak was thumbing the sharp points of his canines. He didn’t know that was possible, he’d never seen an alpha marked like that. “That’s interesting. But, still, there’s no real reason to bond anyone like that. Everyone should have freedom of will—to come and go and do what they want.” You could try and get away from your bonded partner, but you would always sense them in your mind—they would always be present within your most private space. There was no escape from them, and they could always find you if they wanted to, no matter the distance. 

Eskild shrugged. “What if your will always wants to be connected to just one other person?”

“How would you know that what you felt wouldn’t change?”

“I guess the urge to do so overwhelms whatever holds you back,” Eskild offered in an unsure voice. “But nothing is ever certain. Everything is a gamble.” 

Isak nodded. That was true. And what was certain that he could feel right now—for Even? He missed him, missed the quiet gaze that had found a home on Isak’s skin, those few words he’d speak that meant more than an essay, the simple thoughtful gestures, even the—sometimes rough—straightforwardness of his actions. Like the perfectly unpractised way Even had fucked him last night… 

“OK, I’m going. Whatever it is that you’re thinking, I don’t wanna know about,” Eskild stated, standing from the couch and slinging his coat around his shoulders.

Isak tried to look innocent, it was hard to do when your cheeks were already hot from the memories, bursting unexpectedly into his conscious thought. “What? I wasn’t thinking—”

“ _ Sure _ ,”  he cut in, shooting a knowing but amused look at Isak, while slipping his boots on. “You should go… make yourself fresh. For when he comes back—because he will. I’ll text you when the suppressants come in, and come up the day I get them. OK?”

“ _ Fresh _ ,” Isak snickered, mimicking his friend. He certainly wasn’t going to make an effort, not when Even had left him alone. 

Eskild only tutted. “I’ll let you know when I get to town safely. Should be fine though, the weather is calmer now.”

“OK,” Isak replied, already missing the quiet sense that Eskild just naturally had. He would figure it out— _ they _ would figure it out. “Good luck with lab coat.”

Eskild shot him a wink before he slipped out of the door. 

* * *

Even had sat in his spot too long now, his feet were completely numb as they dangled down from the branch. There were wooden slats nailed to the tree trunk leading up here, there were the remains of an old treehouse but most of the walls and roof had been lost to storms over the years. With no one here to tend to it, the structure had disintegrated. 

It was obvious why it had been built here; the view across the mountain peaks one way, and down the pass towards the town and harbour the other was impressive. One could sit there and distance himself entirely from the rest of the world, being left to oversee it. Usually this spot brought Even comfort, but he didn’t want to be detached. 

His intentions had been to get out and keep walking, the way he had the first time he’d run away. Instead his feet carried him here and would go no further, like there was an invisible radius that circled Isak, and Even couldn’t roam beyond it. So, instead he’d climbed to think.

The problems hadn’t gone anywhere, Even would still be placing Isak in a position of danger if they carried on. Heats and ruts would be inevitable, and the only rut he’d experienced had been shameful and destructive. Isak didn’t deserve that.

Isak also didn’t deserve his host taking advantage of him. That was flat out wrong, and Even should have known better. He did know better, and yet he was little more than an animal. 

Yet he couldn’t leave. Isak would need to tell him to go, that was the only way. 

Shuffling along the old boards of the treehouse foundation, stretching between two imperious pines, the toes of his boots found the rungs in the trunk. He had to double check by looking because he had no sensation in his feet to let him know he had firm footing. 

The way back to the cabin he could have made blindfolded, an invisible cord was dragging him back to where his body needed to be—despite how troubled his mind was over that instinct. But holding against it made him feel weak, with Isak he felt stronger. 

That fact was true, even last night when he couldn’t sleep because of the body pressed to his. Isak slept soundly, his warmth spread into Even, fingers casually gripping to his body in a way that Even didn’t find suffocating. It felt good; new, fresh, and invigorating. Yet Even was petrified, the only thoughts in his head were of the inevitable suffering and pain he would inflict on Isak if he stuck around. Could he take feeling Isak’s disappointment in him?

Torturous notions aside, when Even pushed open the door to the cabin his heart dropped when it appeared to be empty. He stood still, pulse beating in his ears, as he observed the quiet and tidy interior; the blankets had been cleared from the floor and folded, and Isak’s clothes were nowhere to be seen. 

Why did that pain him? It would be for the best if Isak had done what Even could not: run away. Perhaps Eskild had advised him to leave with him. The knowing looks that had been cast over him and Isak last night had not gone unnoticed. And after what Even had done in the night, Eskild would be a good friend to persuade Isak to leave. 

Those worst fears, despite being accepted as the best plan, overshadowed Even’s instincts. The numbness had spread from his feet to his brain, and he drifted through the room, kicking one shoe off and then the other, throwing his coat and scarf over the sofa, making a beeline to the bathroom. He needed to splash some water on his face because this turmoil of emotions was as unpredictable as a sea storm. He was trying desperately not to capsize. Loneliness had been his solitude up until a week ago. 

Thoughts as loud and unwelcome as a gong, Even was ignorant to anything else except his hopeless assumptions. One palm landed on the handle and he pushed open the bathroom door, only to stall instantly at the threshold. His vision was filled with an expanse of pale flesh, water droplets and suds slipping down lean lines and over smooth curves, until they reached a perfectly pert and pink backside.

Even’s eyes widened as the image of Isak standing to wash in the sitting tub hit home, time moving excruciatingly slow—and it wasn’t his imagination. Isak shot a startled look over his shoulder, his cheeks as pink now as his ass, before he sat down hard, sending water slopping over the sides. 

It was too late to hide the gawking, but Even shut his eyes anyway, whirling around to give Isak some privacy. It didn’t matter what had passed between them in the dark, secrecy of night—it was ambiguous; moonlight could make a strange cocktail of regrettably mad choices. But walking in on Isak naked, and wet, and so very perfect… 

“I’m sorry— _ sorry _ ,” he lamented, biting down on his lip hard. 

“Don’t you knock?”

“I didn’t think you were here. I thought you’d left.  _ Sorry _ .”

There was a pause, only the dripping of water onto the wooden flooring could be heard. “Me? Why would  _ I _ leave? I thought  _ you’d  _ gone.”

“I wouldn’t blame you—it would be the smart thing to do. And you’re smart. I tried to leave—” Even began to explain, not sure whether Isak had expected him to vanish in the morning, and might be disappointed to see him return. He had no idea what he was trying to do. But before he could explain further, Isak cut in. 

“ _ You did _ ?” There was no hiding the heat in Isak’s voice at the admission, shock and upset. Did he want him to stay? The plan had been that they would part ways—at some point. That was the plan. 

“Yes, well—it’s best. And I shouldn’t have done what I did.” Even replied, trying to plead his case. 

“What did you do?” There was an edge to Isak’s voice that said Even should tread carefully. Licking his lips he began to pick out an answer that wouldn’t inflame the situation. 

“Last night, when you woke up.” Even swallowed, bracing himself for the reaction that he couldn’t anticipate from Isak. But another silence met him, this time it was deadly. The impasse stretched out so long that Even dared to turn and open his eyes, in fear that somehow Isak had perhaps drowned or dissolved in the tub. 

But Isak was very much alive. His eyes were wide saucers overflowing with open fury. Even’s mouth fell open, but he was clueless to how he could placate Isak now he’d gotten to such a raw state of anger.

Even blinked and suddenly Isak was grabbing a towel and was rising like a god from the sea, filled with wrath—because he had to have the higher ground. Not quite sure where to look, Even was confident that, at this particular moment in time, he should not be enjoying the sight of Isak’s flesh quite so much as he was.

_ “What you did?”  _ Isak’s voice was shrill.

“Yes, I did  _ something _ to you—”

_ “You did something to me?”  _ His tone wasn’t calming in the slightest. Even felt, for the first time in his life, like a deer in the headlights. 

“When we—”

“Yes,  _ we _ , Even,  _ we _ ,” he retorted in a clipped voice. “Don’t flatter yourself into thinking you could make me do something I did not want to.” 

Even could feel his cheeks flush with shame. That wasn’t what he meant at all, if he hadn’t learned that already from Isak then he would have to have been deaf, dumb, and blind. “That’s not what I meant. You’re my guest, I took advantage of you.” 

The anger seemed to slip a shade, and now Isak was studying him trying to puzzle Even out. Then he let out a snort of amusement. “What are you talking about? You didn’t take advantage of me. I was  _ willing _ ." He impressed on the last word, Even's behaviour seeming to become clear to him and the worries that were tormenting his host. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, deliberating on expanding further, Even was left mesmerised by his mouth, and left mute. "I'm  _ still _ willing," he added softly. 

The words hit Even, and he tried to push the meaning away. Breaking his gaze from Isak, he shook his head. "I'll hurt you." The fear was whispered, but it was clear as day. Even couldn’t detail it more than that, but the simple statement was understood. 

Isak sighed, impatience or empathy, possibly a mix of both. “ _ I _ might hurt  _ you _ ,” he replied tartly. 

“It’s not the same—” Even began but cut off when his gaze rose to meet Isak’s once more. An eyebrow had been lifted, daring him to imply that there would be a difference in their strength or determination to hurt. Even wasn’t about to play that card, not when he knew how cunning and ferocious his mate could be—being slight of frame would not deter him.

_ Mate? _

Even’s heart began to thud against his chest. Could he have this? With Isak? The sharp green gaze that studied him evolved from a challenge, with his chin tilted up despite still standing in the tub and being a whole hand taller than Even, to something softer—considering Even with patience. After all, Isak knew more about him now than anyone else.

“What?” he asked, as gentle as his eyes now were. 

Licking his lips, Even tried and failed to put the thought that was on loop into words. “You’re still…  _ willing _ ?” The last word was said with discomfort, like trying on a new garment that you didn’t quite know how it should fit, or where in fact it was supposed to go. 

Isak rolled his eyes, but he was smirking now. “Well, I’m still here.” 

That didn’t answer the question at all. Or perhaps it did, but not as accurately as Even had wanted. For how long? Would it be a fleeting thing? Would he get tired and want to move on? Isak had engaged in relationships before—and there was nothing wrong with that. But Even was sure, now that it had proved impossible for him to run away from Isak, that he wouldn’t want to leave. This meant something to him, it was as deep as his bones and as fluid as his blood but he had no clue what the fuck it was—only that he would not get enough.  

A question worked itself free of his mind, and had almost found freedom, but a loud banging interrupted him. Even frowned in the direction of the cabin door. He would never get visitors, and the wolves never knocked. 

“It’s probably Eskild. Forgot his phone…” Isak muttered, looking deflated that their conversation was interrupted, and mildly awkward now that the anger had subsided and he was still stood, barely covering himself and dripping wet. 

Nodding, Even took the suggestion. Who else could it be? “I’ll get it. Put on some clothes if you’re coming out, I don’t want you to catch a cold.” He heard the derisive snort Isak made at his coddling but paid it no mind as he left the bathroom, pulling the door closed and walking back across the cabin. Relief began to settle in him that Isak hadn’t left, that maybe they could work this out. It might be OK… 

The bubble of relief was popped as soon as Even pushed open the door, at the same time as he considered the fact that Eskild hadn’t bothered to knock last night. 

Anger, resentment, and fear slammed into Even as quickly as the cold air that whipped around him, whistling into the cabin. 

“Hi.” There were too many teeth in a smile that held heavy fangs. Bright and white and false. 

Planting his two socked feet in the snow outside and forcing the stranger back a step, Even pulled the door almost shut at his back as a protective measure. If Isak followed him out… “What do you want?”

The alpha looked him up and down, not caring to hide his destain. Hairs began to stand on his neck. The alpha was shorter than him, but wider in the shoulders. Dark hair hung across his forehead, darker eyes danced with unspoken challenge, and a grin pulled at a petulant mouth. Even was suppressing the urge to punch him outright. He wasn’t one for many words, and he didn’t want to waste them on this idiot. 

“Is that how mad loners greet people up here?” The stranger eyed him again, picking up on the hostility he’d been greeted with. Even simply stared into his face. He looked stupid—if a person could look stupid. Yes,  _ this _ was a typical alpha. “That’s what they call you: a mad loner. They said you were an alpha, too.” The last sentence was snickered through that shit eating grin, it was an obvious taunt. 

“They can go fuck themselves, as can you. What do you want?” he demanded, firmer this time and feeling the low growl in his chest emerge as he spoke.

Then those beady eyes crept over Even’s shoulder, his head tilting to one side as his gaze encroached upon the private sanctity of the cabin. “I’m looking for an omega. They’ve been missing almost two weeks.”

Even snorted. “An omega? Running away from you? Can’t be true.” The sarcasm was clear, the destain, offered to Even, was returned to sender. This time there was a dangerous narrowing of those brown eyes. 

“I didn’t say he ran away.”

Snorting a laugh, Even shook his head. “You didn’t have to.”

The alpha took a step forward, as if to push by Even, but Even stepped in front to block his way. “Is that how  _ you _ city alphas are? Inviting yourself into people’s homes?”

The cocky demeanor the alpha had possessed was now turning sour. “Can I have a look around?”

“No, you can fuck back down this mountain and never come back.  _ This _ is  _ my _ land.” It was a lie, but there was no way for the stranger to know it wasn’t the truth. “You’re trespassing.”

The breaths the alpha took could only be described as seething, the air misting on his exhales reminded Even of a dragon. Then he sniffed sharply, his gaze shot across Even’s shoulder once more and before there was something else in his expression besides irritation—a dangerous spark of curiosity being sated. His smirk reappeared as he took a few steps backwards. 

“OK, I’m going,” he said through a laugh. “I’d be careful up here. Lots of things can happen in a winter storm—watch your back.” There was no care to his words, it was an obvious and clear threat. But then it didn’t seem this alpha could be discreet or clever about any one thing. 

Even’s jaw firmed, he considered the regret he felt at not lashing out as he watched the alpha retreat. Perhaps in this instance he should have reacted in the way his instincts yearned to. 

There was only a moment’s reprieve, as he stood in the main room, door now closed and locked behind him, and tried to calm the rage that was building inside of him, ignoring the frozen and wet socks on his feet. How dare that alpha come up here. He had no right.

Footsteps began to drum the floorboards as Isak burst out of the bathroom, towels pulled around him and his clothes bundled under an arm. He threw them on the sofa and purposefully began shoving his feet into thick socks. 

“I have to go,” he said, voice flat. The conversation would have carried easily to the bathroom. And even if it hadn't, Isak would undoubtedly pick up on a scent he'd escaped before. 

Fear surged past Even’s anger. “ _ Why _ ? You can’t.”

But Isak was shaking his head. “I have to. If I stay—” he paused, sliding underwear on under the towel. “If I stay then I will get you hurt.” His focus didn’t waver but his words caught in his throat.

No.  _ No _ . Some goddamn alpha couldn’t just come in and destroy this. 

“ _ No _ ,” Even replied, as firmly as he could muster. The anger was still boiling inside of him and the word boomed from his chest louder than he’d anticipated.

Isak looked at him, shock and challenge in his eyes. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Even snorted. “It’s a stupid idea to go out there. You have nothing—no supplies. You’ll die in this weather.”

“I survived coming up here,” Isak stated, clamping his jaw shut in a manner of finality. His hand pulled at the bunch of clothes he’d carried in before he tsked and muttered about forgetting his trousers. Standing he made to cross the floor back to the bathroom.

“ _ Barely _ ,” Even added. “Without me you would have died.”

Isak shrugged dismissively. “I can survive on my own. I don't need to be saved,” he spat over his shoulder as he passed Even. Even had to resist the urge to grab him, tun him around and shake him. Isak’s idea was not a good one, but neither were those actions. He wasn’t angry or fearful enough to lose all of his senses. Instead he moved to catch up, blockling the bathroom door. 

“You  _ can’t _ ,” Even impressed, his voice was gruff now. 

And Isak had been right, the open fury that his green eyes now held spoke of limitless damage he was capable of. “Why not?” The words clipped and direct, daring a reason good enough, and expecting a very specific reply.

Even couldn’t deny that he knew what Isak anticipated, because that answer was in his mind. To claim; ownership—instincts that they both detested. But behind that was a truth, maybe a truth within every alpha if they let themselves be vulnerable. 

He let his shoulders relax as a breath left his lungs, before meeting Isak’s eyes. “Because…” he cleared his throat, having never said or considered the words coming from him before. “Because, I need you.” And for once, Isak was speechless. Even wished he could enjoy the moment but there was too much to say. “If you went, I would go. I couldn’t stay here and worry for you—I’d be as good as dead.”

Isak licked his lips, trying to find sense in a moment that was full of new emotions. “But we’re a sitting target, you heard what he said. He  _ will _ come back—probably with the others.”

Clicking his tongue, Even felt the vexation seep into him. Isak was right. “The storm is going to get worse, and we only have the option to go further into the mountains. We can’t survive that.” Isak’s eyes began to dart around in a panic, and the shiver that ran through his body was not due to the fact he was still stood in nothing but shorts and socks. 

“We can go down to the town—”

But Even shook his head. “He mentioned about a  _ they _ , that  _ they _ told him about me up here—the townsfolk. They’ll call whoever they think is the rightful alpha if they see us. If they think you’re with me, they’ll assume  _ I _ stole you—holding you against your will. Remember? I’m a lone wolf to them.” It was how they regarded him, fearful smiles and nerves. If they could get rid of the mad alpha, all alone on the mountainside, they would. 

“What do we do?” Isak inched closer, peering up at Even. And Even’s heart swelled seeing Isak look to him, and considering the situation something they would face together. 

“We stay here, we face what comes.” And they had odds on their side, Even knew this place, he had hunting supplies if it came to that. Then there were the wolves and the elements. They had the high ground. "They won't take you," Even growled the oath. 

Isak swallowed, then nodded. “OK,” he replied numbly. And Even would have teased, he hadn’t known for Isak to be so agreeable, but this wasn’t the time. He wanted to reassure that things would be OK, that he would protect Isak, but words were stuck in his throat. Besides that, Isak would probably clout him for suggesting that he needed protecting. 

“You…” Isak began when Even remained quiet, neither of them moved, “you need me?” he asked. It was as gentle as the way Even had looked for reassurance in Isak’s admitted willingness; to stay, to be with him. Before the alpha had interrupted.

He nodded with no hesitation. “How could I not?” The truth left him bare and open, he wasn’t given long to fret in his vulnerable state, somehow feeling smaller than Isak, as Isak inched closer, cupping Even’s face in both hands. His eyelids were heavy. 

Isak licked his lips. “And before  _ he _ came, earlier, you said you thought I’d left. You would just… let me go? If that’s what I wanted?” 

Even’s eyes narrowed at the questions, brows drawing together. “Of course I would. I don’t own you. You know I don’t like that, I’ve never liked the way it is for… people like us.”

“But you want me to stay?” 

“I just said I did—”

“No, before. Before it was dangerous, you wished I was still here?”

Isak’s fingers felt at home on him, like last night. They were warmth and comfort. Even closed his eyes. He nodded. “It might be selfish, but I did. I wanted you to be here.” He felt as Isak shook his head in disagreement, and could see—despite his closed eyes—Isak’s mouth open to counter that point, but Even carried on. “It  _ is _ . I don’t know what will happen, us being close. I don’t know if I’ll change. I don’t know what I’m capable of—I  _ shouldn't _ do this to you.” Then he dared to look, straight into a clear green gaze that seemed to berate and soothe him all at once. Even’s throat was thick with emotion, but he resisted the urge to shut the feelings off. Here he could be honest. 

“I know what you’re capable of,” he said quietly. “You found me, brought me here, cared for me—despite my heat. I don’t want to leave you, but if you’re struggling and you tell me I should, then I will. I promise. But let’s try first?” Even nodded before Isak let out a heavy breath. “I was scared you’d run away—remembered what I was and you didn’t want me anymore.” The admission sent tremors loose, causing his voice to undulate in what could only be fear, or at least panic. 

Even wasn’t sure when his hands moved but his arms enclosed Isak, palms running up his back and pulling him closer. And Isak went. “I would never,” he managed to say, as vehemently as he could considering the gentle honesty that surrounded them. “I’ll never run from you. I promise.” His mind was scouring Isak’s words trying to find where he could calm the anxiety Isak held against his own omegan nature. The gaze on him had softened now, Isak felt at ease in his arms—malleable. He’d probably never been vulnerable like this for anyone—but Even was vulnerable, too. It had nothing to do with being alpha or omega, but a simple and honest connection with another soul. “I said last night you are Isak—before anything else. That won’t change. Hormones, heats… you’ll still be Isak. If you want me to be with you, or alone, when you go through those times, I’ll do what you ask.” 

A moment passed as Isak simply studied him, Even now carefully cradling his face. Then he nodded, one tear breaking free from his lashes. “OK.” His gaze dropped to Even’s mouth before they flitted back to meet his eyes, his lids lowered as he nuzzled into Even’s palm, sighing out his apprehension at following urges that Even could feel too, ones that he was quickly losing fear to act upon. 

Stooping, Isak inhaled sharply in shock before Even’s mouth found his. But that momentary tenseness of muscle melted in a heartbeat; Isak’s body pulled flush to his, fingers insistent in Even’s hair as the kiss deepend. It was softer than last night, slow and measured, but no less fulfilling. Isak tasted just how he remembered, he felt exactly how he remembered, except better because now Even had his bare skin…

It was dizzying. Having gone through his life not knowing what it felt like to have someone inspire your body to react in such an urgent and natural way, the emotions almost swept Even away. When Isak clung to him, demanding more from his mouth as he was pushed back against the wall. It was hard to keep hold of sense; the desire he had for Isak was intoxicating. 

A breath shuddered from him as Isak pulled back, only to mutter words that caused Even’s lungs to freeze over again. “I missed you.” The admission was barely there, nearly lost to the winds that wrapped themselves around the cabin. But Even heard it. 

“I wasn’t gone long.” Even wanted to make the reply light, a gentle jibe, but his tone was almost a plea; that he hadn’t wanted to leave; that his intentions weren’t to worry Isak. 

“I wanted to wake up next to you,” Isak said, tilting his chin up in defiance that Even loved so much. 

_ Loved? _

“I’ll make it up to you.” 

Isak raised his eyebrows, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. Without realising what he was doing, Even groaned, and the reaction made Isak’s eyes glint with playfulness. His fingers skated down Even’s chest, casually toying at the waistband of his trousers. “Now?”

“Shouldn’t we… is it a good time?” With the unwelcome visitor that had made themselves known as a threat, perhaps they should prepare. But then that alpha wouldn’t be returning anytime soon if they had to find reinforcements. Going to and fro from the city in this weather would be at least four days, possibly a week. There really wasn’t much they could do. Well, except… 

“I can’t think of a better time,” Isak said, voicing Even’s thoughts. 

Snorting a laugh, Even worried his lip, drinking in Isak who peered up at him, fingers as daring as the smile curving his lips. Orders spilled from his mouth in a chemical reaction. “Loft. Now.” 

Light laughs had chased them up the ladder, but they’d quieted as soon as Isak’s back was pressed to the mattress. Even clambered over him before their mouths merged. The kisses were urgent and frenzied, making up for the time lost this morning. Or yesterday. Or their entire goddamn lives… 

Isak pulled at his jumper and shirt, tugging them easily over Even’s head, before they were cast away. The trousers followed, and then shorts, until there was nothing but their skin. Every part of Even touching every part of Isak. It felt like rebirth. 

A rhythm emerged as their bodies rolled together, Isak sighing against Even’s neck. The wordless noises sounded like they should be commands, orders to follow. But they were ignored, Even instead taking his time to run his hands down Isak’s torso and limbs, needing to explore every inch he had yet to stake claim to. The shallow breaths began to sound impatient. 

“I  _ need _ you.” They finally urged themselves into words. 

The plea made Even moan against Isak’s neck before another kiss was pressed to his collarbone. But the reply that came surprised Even himself. “ _ Wait _ .” It was stated firmer than he felt, but it caused a groan to shudder from the body beneath him. Isak arched, giving more of himself to Even, for his lips, teeth, and tongue. And Even took it. 

Despite his own sentiment, Even found himself moving faster than he planned. He wanted to take his time, enjoy every inch of Isak, but he was eager, too; his mind already inside of Isak, being able to see the shade he would flush as Even fucked him.

Right now he was relishing the sharp intake of breath Isak took every time lips were pressed against his abdomen. Fingers were coiled tightly in his hair before a cuss word followed the jagged breaths when he found Isak, hard and leaking—just like Even. And he would have to work on his ability to tease because there was no hesitation when Even licked along Isak’s length, taking him in his mouth, tasting him. 

There was no right or wrong. Isak tensed before melting, calling out Even’s name as he pushed to the back of Even’s throat. His hands were light in their grip, there was no force in Isak’s hold, he was willing to be taken in which ever way Even decided was best. For now, at least. 

Isak’s cock slapped heavily against his stomach when Even released him, propelled to give pleasure in as many ways, to as many places as he could, before his own body took over. Cum was leaking down his thigh, turned on by making Isak moan. Kisses were trailed along Isak’s groin, palm cupping the warm and soft of his balls, urging them tenderly aside, while his mouth followed the lines of Isak’s body, until his tongue traced delicate skin, already wet with slick.  

“Baby, you don’t have—” the sentence cut off abruptly as Even pushed inside of Isak, groans emanating from them both. As much as this exploration was igniting the many pleasure points that Isak’s body possessed, Even was fulfilled by the sweet, heady scent and taste of his mate. His body ached, need driving him to act—to fuck. But he resisted it. His fingers danced easily over skin, the slick making them glide until they slid inside of Isak, where Even’s tongue had been working. 

Sitting back, Even watched as Isak’s body rocked against the hand easing him open. Slender, white fingers gripped the sheets, and Even felt an irrational envy that they were not sinking into his skin. There was so much that he wanted to do, and he wanted to make it last, but there was only possessed so much self restraint. And when Isak’s eyes opened, dark and pleading, there was nothing else he could do. 

Body hovering over Isak, Even sighed relief as fingers found him, clinging to him like they had cotton. His lips bumped against Isak’s in a quick, rough kiss that Isak was unable to commit his full attention to; pants and moans took precedence right now. And Even’s focus was on the sensation of touching such an intimate part of his mate—soft, hot, and tight around his fingers. Isak was so wet… 

“You—” Isak whispered against his mouth. “You— _ now _ .”  His neck arched just as Even’s fingers curved, searching out sweetspots. But his gaze was insistent. “I will  _ not _ last, and you aren’t fucking me after I’ve come.” The sentence was rushed before another groan took control of his tongue. 

Snorting on short lived laughter, Even enjoyed the way Isak whimpered when he pulled his hand back. Every part of him was ready, it had been ready since waking from a fitful sleep, with Isak laid on his chest—purring softly, while he was sat alone in a tree no more than fifty foot away, when he walked in on Isak naked… There was not one part of Isak that didn’t fit perfectly—or look, or feel, or taste, or sound fucking perfect. And the way he responded to Even was satiating on it’s own; he was sure he could orgasm just from watching Isak twist in the slick-dampened sheets, under his touch. 

“Did I hurt you? Last night?” Even rasped. It was something he’d worried over, given how fast and desperate he’d acted. 

Isak blinked, shaking his head minimally. “No.” 

“You sure?”

There was that eyeroll. Even would grin but all of his energy was being put into consideration; any mistakes he may have made should be rectified. “You didn’t,” Isak muttered, mildly harassed but somewhat amused. “In fact, I think I might like it a little  _ rougher _ .” There was no hiding the smirk as he stared right back at Even, biting his lower lip. 

Even’s brain short circuited as he imagined that smirk staying right there on those irresistible lips as Even fucked into him— _ hard _ . Maybe while Isak was on his hands and knees… “ _ Fuck _ ,” he grunted. His dick throbbed reminding him that there were things he really needed get on with—while he was still useful. 

Hands creeping over clammy skin, Even found himself rocking against Isak once more. He reached down to grip his shaft, almost painfully sensitive where the head brushed over Isak, nudging against soft, delicate skin that Even knew would give easily. And Isak did just that when Even moved against him, slower than last night. 

Nails dug into him, they both gasped. Even waited until Isak inhaled before he moved again. The firm gave way to soft, just like last night, and Isak’s thighs widened, his hips tilted in time with Even’s movements. They were a perfect song, a perfect fit. 

Unlike last night, Even could see everything; Isak spread beneath him. And there was no need for quietness, they were both taking full advantage of that. Shifting to rest on one palm, Even looked down, watching where their bodies merged, mesmerised by the way he sunk into Isak’s body, and his body clung to him as Even ebbed away, only to thrust back into eager heat. 

_ Fuck, he wasn’t going to last long either.  _

“Harder,” Isak urged. “ _ Baby _ , more.”

Even wasn’t sure whether he should laugh at Isak’s direct orders, despite being on his back, or if he should preen because this was the second time Isak had called him that. It sounded good. 

Instead, Even gripped Isak’s thigh, tilting his hips as he sat further upright. If he wanted harder, that’s what he would get. Isak began to moan in earnest now, uncontrollably, and intercepted by shocked cries as Even’s body slammed against his—again and again. His cock was laying hard on his stomach, a stream of cum leaking from the slit.

He was hardly aware of the red marks his fingers left in Isak’s pale flesh, nor the long lines of scarlet scratches down his arms, across his shoulders and anywhere Isak could reach—arms flying around to grip, and tug, and urge. All he could feel was Isak around him, the smooth velvet of his muscles gripping to Even’s length, all he could hear was his name on Isak’s tongue, and all he could see were kiss bruised lips. 

A dull ache began to swell at the base of his cock, his knot forming. He’d wanted to, last night, when they’d pressed together, wanted to give Isak all of him. But it was as good as a commitment… 

Isak’s brow furrowed, his lips parted. “I’m gonna—” he cut off, giving way to a moan as Even met his body again, as deep as he could without going too far. Green eyes flashed open, settling on Even with determination. “All of you. I need all of you.”  

His motions stuttered as he looked at Isak, dumbfounded at the request—no, demand. He licked his lips, momentum almost entirely lost because it was as if Isak had read his mind. But before Even could fashion a question, a huff of impatience was expelled before something Even could not anticipate happened. His body was moving, Isak had rolled them, and now Even’s back was to the mattress, straddled by what could have been a wolf looking at an injured doe. 

Even wasn’t permitted to draw a full breath before Isak was moving. His hips rolling, rocking forward, before sliding back down Even’s cock. All he could do was grip Isak’s waist—hold on for dear life.

“ _ Fuck _ —Isak, that feels—” There were no words to describe the way it felt. He loved the way Isak was strong—in his will and body. There wasn’t anything as beautiful as what was displayed for him right now; Isak flushing pink and red while rocking and moaning on Even’s cock. 

“Do you want it?” he asked, voice hoarse but firm.  

This time Even didn’t hesitate. “ _ Yes _ .” 

Something close to relief passed over Isak’s face before he dropped to Even, mouths meeting for quick misplaced and wet kisses. Isak somehow kept up the tantalising pace, riding Even like it was instinctive. And Even found a use, guiding Isak’s before he decided to throw any remaining scraps of caution to the wind, and let his hips buck, meeting Isak, and forcing cries from his throat that came from somewhere deep and sacred. This was pure and primal, there was no other way to describe it. It just made sense, and—in the same breath—it didn’t have to.

Every thrust teased them both with the promise of completion, Even couldn’t be any harder—or fuller, and Isak was a wet mess. It was when the determined body that had him pinned began to shake that he knew, somehow, that the time was right. 

“ _ Baby _ ,” Isak wailed, almost every ounce of energy spent. There was enough left to drive home the final thrust. Even’s hands were full of his ass, his grip firm and guiding Isak’s body down with gentle force. 

It was impossible to breathe, as Isak took him entirely, the tightness around his length and knot seemed to embrace his body completely. But he didn’t need to do anything other than to be here, with his mate. Isak was swearing between ragged gasps, fingers digging into Even’s shoulders as his body shook and convulsed. Warmth spread over Even’s gut. Still, if he hadn’t been able to feel the sensation of cum spilling onto his skin, Even would have known the orgasm had hit Isak by the way his body reacted.

Muscles tremored and contracted, ripping Even’s climax from the weak grasp he had on it. He couldn’t see anything but blinding white, his body tensing, lurching up so his skin could find Isak’s as he came inside of him. If peace could be considered violent, that is what this would be. Even coiled around him, their bodies ebbing like the tide as their passion crested; a long and fulfilling crescendo. 

It seemed impossible, how long it could last, but eventually the energy drained from Even. Flopping back onto the bed, he took Isak with him, cradled to his chest and bound intimately together for however long their bodies decided they should be. 

Sense came back to him as he idly stared at the planks above his head, wondering how he hadn’t realised what this was all those nights Isak provoked him simply by sleeping a handful of feet away, purring. Now he was enveloped by this wonderful person who had stumbled into his life; accepted, desired, and wanted. 

Gratitude flooded him, along with the sense, but he wasn’t dense enough to speak his appreciation—Isak would undoubtedly scold him for just thinking about it. But his fingers were drawn over Isak’s skin, writing his respect over his body without words. 

Propping himself on one elbow, Isak gazed down on him. It was impossible not to smile because his cheeks were rosy and his hair was a beautiful tangle of sweaty curls. But those green eyes held him with unspoken reprimand, giving Even the clear impression that Isak was reading his mind again. But his mouth was a badly repressed smirk; he obviously was not too offended the amorous way that Even was studying and thinking of him in this quiet moment. 

Even reached out, tucking a stray curl behind Isak’s ear. It was probably right to say something. But what were the right words? Isak let out a small sigh before Even had reached any firm conclusions on that question. His tongue ran along his lower lip and Even was quickly mesmerized by that action instead. Who knew he was so fickle?

The smirk broke free before Isak asked a simple question, one that Even was arriving at himself. 

“Again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are new to the alpha/omega dynamics, I urge you not to google that shit. I'm serious lol. Just go with what your mind imagines... 
> 
> FYI - I go with the omega-lore that says they are a blended sex, so they have all the organs and... orifices
> 
> *crawls into my BIaS* I'll be back here soon <3

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments, criticism and suggestions welcome <3


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